






























</> 

<p o 

* 

* 

, ^ ^0* <• ^7' s s’ A 

\J * ^ <* 'P -riy . V % O-, A 


«>*_ v 

o o' 



\°°< 


o 




A- »• \° °v * 

\v- ^ ^v//l3p " a <<• y- 

OA ^ . \ r\ - Ci^ n>> 

0 f° s . 






,0*” c . - 
0 * 

: w ' 

r ^ ^ * 

S * * ; A * 3 N 0 \^ -V 8 

* 'v, 

v, * r '*** -* 

O 4 \ v v tP ‘/ /AV^\\M =» 4 a >. — ; l 

" -^v 

* \ 


^ • / 0,x' i A 0 r <* ,'\ 

C 0 N C ♦ <6 * * ' , V > 

* ^ ^ ^ ,ir v 

»i *N 


*' i ~ «. s ' • \ 

<P, v^ X « V 1 * « 

to . ' -/ ^ j 

% ^ * 




H V*. >- ^ 



A* 


* <£ 

<* * 

•S -V- 

*A ^ 

* 1 * 

* , ;-. »* y V^fT'V * * ^ A 

'•'='=■’ A r - 



r <£* v 

° A %* 



c 0 N C «C* 

cn£n^ f ^ 


_J| x * ^ ^(fW o> 

• ' * * s S A A v I 8 ^ y 0 * v * ^ 

* AV ^ -> °o o° 

x oo «. *1EIK.- <s -r, : 

>° c i a^a^v ft A ^ t 

' * * / , a, ® * 0 A % . „ ' -v * 1 1 1 * 

%> A' -* * 

V> ,^v . AVM/A ° *£, c* 

^ « .\V </> 







* v X <iSK, 1 <5 

• Kp 0 ^ 

« • * BPWf&fi ° 0 ' 

: xQ °x. ! 


.4 

















































H E L 0 I S E, 

OR 


THE UNREVEALED SECRET. 


1 

u J ' ' 


BY T A L Y I. 

I bisr\Ji&y ■»- ^ ^ \\JLt\JU*JU Cl. t-.v. VT' 

» • 



“ Greift nur hinein m’s voile Menschenieben : 

Ein Jeder lebt’s, nicht Vielen ist’s bekannt — 

Und wo Ihr’s fasst, da ist es interessant.” 

Goethe’s Faust. 

“ Grasp but into the full of human life : 

’Tis lived by all, ’tis known by few, at best — 

And, seize it where you will, there’s interest.” 


NEW YORK: 

D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 200 

PHILADELPHIA : 

GEO. S. APPLETON, 164 CHESNUT-STREET. 

M DCCC L. 

NOi/, 








Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by 
D. APPLETON & CO., 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the Southern District of 

New- York. 


CONTENTS 


The meeting, 

CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

. 9 

Brother and sister, 

CHAPTER H. 

. . 20 

Heloise’s history, 

CHAPTER HI. 

• • • • 

. . 34 

A maiden’s heart, 

CHAPTER IV. 

• • • • 

. . 46 

Two visits, 

CHAPTER V. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Heloise regains her composure, 

. . 67 

Isabella, 

CHAPTER VH. 


Angern, . 

CHAPTER VIII. 

. . 80 


CHAPTER IX. 
The story comes to a stand, 


88 


CONTENTS. 


The story proceeds, 

CHAPTER X. 

. 98 

The journey, 

CHAPTER XI. 

. 122 

The arrival, 

CHAPTER XH. 

144 

Father and daughter, 

CHAPTER XIH. 

. 156 

Guasha and her home, 

CHAPTER XIV. 

172 

The Circassians, 

CHAPTER XV. 

. 184 

A Circassian prince, 

CHAPTER XVI. 

. 196 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Father and daughter once again, .... 

. 215 

A letter, 

CHAPTER XVIH. 

222 

Something unexpected, 

CHAPTER XIX. 

. 238 

Conclusion, 

CHAPTER XX. 

CO 

vO 

cq 

« 


II E L 0 I S E 


CHAPTER I. 

THE MEETING. 

It was between ten and twenty years ago, in the latter part 
of autumn, and evening had already commenced, when He- 
loise von Waldeck entered the gates of the capital. u Oh, 
look ! just look, miss !” cried the maid, who was seated by 
her side, again and again, “ just see the big houses, and the 
beautiful ladies, and that handsome officer !” 

The young lady’s looks followed, mechanically, the direc- 
tion of Lisette’s forefinger, but her eye only saw, only her 
ear heard ; her mind and heart were occupied with very dif- 
ferent things. The passers by laughed, stood still, and mani- 
fested much amusement at the curiosity of the girl, the old- 
fashioned coach, and the peasant on the box, who, scolding 
and swearing at the crowd which hindered his progress, and 
at the endless number of long streets, made inquiries from 
time to time, in a strange dialect, with regard to the street 
and the number of the house where his journey was to end. 
The laughter of many, however, was changed to a smile of 
admiration, as their eye fell on the lovely, blooming face of 
Heloise, which peeped out in pleasant contrast from under 
her crape mourning hat. The young lady, seeing how much 
1 * 


10 


HELOISE. 


attention she attracted, dropped her veil, leaned hack in a 
corner, and without taking any further notice of Lisette’s 
exclamations, gave herself up, while the carriage rolled slowly 
on, to the half joyous half sorrowful emotions of her heart. 

“ Felix, my Felix !” she said to herself, “ at length I 
shall see you again ! after a separation, and so painful a one, 
of a long year, we are again to meet ; hut ah ! how impover- 
ished ! What a disclosure have I to make to you ! How 
will you receive it? Will it startle you? Will you rejoice 
at it? No, no,” she continued, blushing, “you will not re- 
joice at it, you cannot ; for however much you love me, and 
in whatever relation I may stand to you in future, yet, I feel 
it in my inmost heart, I can never he to you, nor you to me, 
more than we have hitherto been to each other ! my friend, 
my brother, my — all ! But by whatever name I may, per- 
haps, once call you, that of brother will always be to me the 
dearest, the holiest, for was it not the first by which I learned 
to love you ?” 

At length the carriage stopped before a large house. 
“ This must be the place,” said the driver, descending from 
his seat. 

a I wonder if Mr. Felix is already with Madame ?” said 
Lisette. 

“ As he does not know that we are coming to-day, it would 
be a mere accident,” replied Heloise. She did not notice 
that Lisette had already asked the above question three times 
that day. How ardently did she hope that this accident 
might have happened ! 

Madame von Pollwitz, an early friend of Heloise’s mother, 
met her guest in the hall, and tears filled her eyes as she 
embraced the young orphan. “ It is not the face and form 
of my Amelie ,” said she, examining Heloise attentively, “ but 
I am sure her heart is there.” 

Heloise bowed over her hand : u Friend of the loved de- 


HELOISE. 


11 


parted one,” she began with trembling voice 5 but her hostess 
interrupted her. 

“ Do not give way to your emotion, my child,” she said, 
“ time will bring you consolation ! It is in the course of na- 
ture that mothers die before their children.” 

Heloise’s tears ceased flowing as she listened to these well- 
meant commonplaces. Madame von Pollwitz, meanwhile, 
turned to the servant : “ Bring in the young lady’s baggage ; 
show the maid her room ; assist her as far as you can, and 
when you have finished, go and let Mr. von Waldeck know 
that his sister has arrived.” 

Lisette, who stood behind her, looked at Heloise : “ Ah ! 
Madame,” she said, boldly, “ begging your pardon, please let 
the gentleman go to young master before we take up the 
things. My young lady has been half crazy with impatience 
all the way.” 

Heloise blushed, and Madame von Pollwitz gave the maid 
a rather haughty look. “Very well,” she replied, “go im- 
mediately, then. Come, my dear,” she continued, turning to 
Heloise and taking her arm, u come in ; you will find my 
daughter with me. She has been married several years, as 
you probably know. She is going to a party in the neighbor- 
hood this evening, and came in to see me for a few moments, 
on her way there.” 

When they entered the drawing-room, a lady in a taste- 
ful fashionable evening dress came to meet them. She had 
a small, delicate figure, the thinness of which was skilfully 
disguised by puffs and folds, and a spiritual little face, which 
had, in spite of a very high color, something ethereal. 

“ Have I not a right to grow proud,” she said to her mo- > 
ther, with a sweet smile, “ when I learn to recognize prophetic 
powers in myself ? This morning my little finger foretold me 
that our young friend would come to-day, in spite of the assu- 
rances to the contrary of her brother, whom sympathy ought 


12 


HELOISE. 


to have taught better. But these men are too grossly orga- 
nized for such things !” 

“ Then my brother does not expect me to-day ?” asked 
Heloise in a low voice. 

“ He had got the idea fixed in his head this morning, that 
you would not come until to-morrow. Do send for him, 
mamma, he cannot have gone yet. He is probably just in the 
midst of his toilet. Your arrival, Miss von Waldeck, gives 
him an excellent pretext to absent himself from a party, from 
which he could not, reasonably at least, expect any thing but 
a stupid evening and a sleepless night.” 

u Is your husband to be there ?” asked her mother. 

“ I cannot say,” she replied with indifference, u I have not 
seen him since yesterday noon.” 

Her mother looked dissatisfied, but the daughter went 
on in the same tone: “You know very well that is nothing 
new. He did not come home last night till two hours past 
midnight. I was already asleep ; and this morning, when I 
rose, he was not yet awake. Nothing whatever can keep me 
from my morning walk with the children, and when I re- 
turned, he had gone to his office. He dined to-day at the Rus- 
sian ambassador’s, or at President Retzer’s, or — I’m sure I 
don’t know where. So it was all very natural.” 

Both the ladies were silent for a while. Madame von 
Pollwitz put an end to the pause by asking Heloise some 
question about her journey. But there was no time for 
an answer ; the door flew open, a tall, handsome young man 
rushed into the room. Heloise uttered a loud scream, and 
was clasped, trembling with mingled joy and sadness, in 
Felix’s arms. 

“ My own girl, have you come at last !” he cried, kissing 
and embracing her heartily. “ Have I got you again, mv 
darling, sweet, lovely little sister? You’re well, I hope? 
And do you love me as much as ever ?” 


HELOISE. 


13 


Thus questions, exclamations, caresses, followed one 
another, until the blushing Heloise succeeded in extricating 
herself from his arms. Without speaking, she pointed to the 
two ladies, who stood looking at them with laughing eyes. 
He colored, and made a low bow. 

“ Pardon me, ladies !” he said. 

u With all my heart,” interrupted Isabella, by which name 
wc will call the daughter ; “ I assure you that none Df your 
civilities ever pleased me as much as this incivility. Come, 
mamma, I have something to tell you ; and here, at any rate, 
we are quite superfluous.” 

The ladies had hardly left the room, before Felix was 
again about to give way to his delight. But Heloise turned 
to him with a serious look, and said significantly, “ Felix, the 
moment of our meeting is truly not pne of joy alone !” 

A cloud came over Felix’s laughing face, tears sprang to 
his eyes. “ Ah ! Heloise,” he said, “ do not think me unfeeling, 
if I rejoice more in present happiness than grieve at past 
misfortune.” 

“ Past misfortune, my dear brother ? ” replied Heloise, 
sadly ; “ the death of a beloved one is never a past misfortune. 
At the most, only the moment of separation can be called so. 
But the continued longing for those we have lost, the miss- 
ing them every where, these are present sufferings, and such 
as last during our whole life.” 

“You are right, sister,” said Felix, gravely; “it is a 
great misfortune that we have lost our dear, good mother, our 
dearest friend, our wisest counsellor, so early. You know 
that I have shed many tears for her, and I never shall think 
of her without the deepest emotion. But — let me be frank, 
as always — I cannot help it, if I think of her less than I did 
six months ago. I cannot help it, if I am happy once more, 
Heloise ; happier than ever ! indescribably happy ! I am 
sure our sainted mother will forgive me ; she rejoices at it, 


14 


HELOISE. 


And now, too, you are with me again, you dear, faithful little 
sister !” 

However much there might be in these words that was 
painful to Heloise’s feelings, the frankness and honesty of 
the declaration touched and conciliated her, and she could 
not refrain from returning the embrace which accompanied 
the last words, with fervor. A quarter of an hour had passed 
away in affectionate conversation, when Isabella entered the 
room softly. “ It is time for me to go,” she said in excuse, 
“ and I had to get my shawl and gloves.” 

Felix started : “ So late already ?” cried he. 

“ Of course you are absolved for this evening, my dear 
Waldeck. I will take your excuse to the chamberlain.” 

“ You are very kind,” he answered, slightly embarrassed ; 
“ but it would not do verj&well for me to stay away entirely.” 

“ What an idea ! You are not going to leave your sister 
alone the very evening of her arrival, I hope.” 

“ My sister wants rest,” he replied, more and more dis- 
concerted. “ She is tired ; I shall not go before ten o’clock, 
when it would be time for her to retire, at any rate.” 

“How considerate! Your sister tired? Look at her; 
is there fatigue in those eyes ? ” 

“ My connections — ” 

“ That sounds suspicious ! I should like to know what 
secret connections you have with our courtiers, Sir Secretary 
of the Legation ? ” 

“ I have refused several invitations from that family ; if 
I should be missed again to-night — ” 

“Missed! Waldeck, are you provincial, or vain? At 
such assemblies, where crowds intermingle, individuals are 
not missed. Therefore be unconcerned, my dear sir ! I will 
excuse you.” 

“ Ho not trouble yourself, madam ! ” replied Felix, in a 


HELOISE. 


15 


cold and vexed tone ; “ 1 shall make my appearance in per- 
son at ten o’clock.” 

“ Very well,” she said, smiling ; “ if you will deem your- 
self indispensable ! As for you, my dear young lady, I wish 
you a better night than I shall have. When your love for 
your brother leaves you time to take notice of any one besides 
him, I shall endeavor to obtain your friendship, which in my 
opinion is an invaluable treasure, and — I feel it — I have the 
means of winning this treasure.” So saying, she pressed her 
hand warmly, and with a look so full of softl, that Heloise in- 
voluntarily returned the pressure. “ Au revoir , monsieur ! ” 
Isabella continued, turning to Felix, and then, with a grace- 
ful courtesy, she left the room. 

Felix and Heloise sat for a while in silence. “ A very 
charming woman,” said Heloise, at last. 

“ V ery sensible and clever,” replied Felix, “ if she only 
would not make good her superiority by that disagreeable, 
tutoring tone which she so often assumes, especially towards 
young men.” 

“But, dear Felix, is it absolutely necessary that you 
should go to-night ?” 

“ If you wish me to stay with you longer than ten o’clock, 
dear Heloise, I will do it with all my heart.” 

“ No, no, Felix ; go, of course, if it gives you pleasure.” 

“ There is no idea of any pleasure in this case. It will 
be a stiff, tiresome affair. I only thought that it would pro- 
bably -be better for you to retire early.” 

“ Yes, dear Felix, do go. I shall see you again to-mor- 
row, besides.” 

“And then every day, dear. But if you want me to 
stay — ” 

“ No, indeed ; no, do go ! Let us talk of something else. 
Tell me, does the young baroness live happily with her hus- 
band ?” 


16 


HELOISE. 


u I don’t believe that she is exactly unhappy, although he 
is an intolerable fellow ; shallow, cold, and, so they say, faith- 
less to his wife.” 

u To that intellectual, lovely woman ?” 

“ Hum ! lovely only in the evening. She is said to 
have been very beautiful ; now she calls art to aid. She 
paints, as you could see.” 

u To excuse that, Felix, you need only think of our 
mother, who, as she has often told us, was obliged to do so 
while she was at court.” 

“ I don’t object to it,” he answered, with a smile ; 11 but 
you, too, I hope, have nothing against my assuring you that 
I like your unpainted cheeks a thousand times better.” 

With this he gave the blushing girl a hearty kiss. 
Shortly after, their hostess rejoined them. The conversa- 
tion led her back to the time when the good old lady, like 
Felix’s mother, was at court in attendance on the young 
Princess Antonia, and she had so many little traits to tell of 
these two, that her young friends listened with heartfelt 
emotion, particularly Heloise, who was visibly touched by 
these reminiscences. The old lady’s anecdotes, however, only 
related to the time previous to her marriage, which removed 
her from court, and brought her to her present residence. 
She was several years older than the other two, who were 
connected by the closest ties of friendship. Several years 
later she had revisited the court of her native country, and 
had been delighted with the ripened beauty of the princess. 
Just at that time, too, the young Countess Staden had been 
married to Mr. von Waldeck, who was considerably older 
than she, but a very excellent and very rich man, of whom 
Felix had a very indistinct recollection, and whom Heloise 
had never known. At this wedding, too, the brother of the 
bride, a proud, stately officer, who had taken an active part 


HELOISE. 


17 


in the late war of deliverance, and had distinguished himself 
highly in the field, made his appearance at court. 

“ My visit,” said Madame von Pollwitz, “ revived my 
correspondence with your mother in some measure. But, as 
is so often the case, our letters grew less and less frequent. 
The misfortune of the princess seemed, by degrees, to occupy 
your mother’s whole heart. But I was very much affected 
when I heard at last, from some travellers, that the princess 
was, so to say, exiled, your mother separated from her, and 
when no one could tell me any thing certain about the fate of 
your uncle, of whom an obscure report said that he had gone 
to Russia. Long afterwards I have heard much said about 
a Russian General Staden, who signalized himself in the 
wars with the Turks and Persians. Probably that is your 
uncle ? If so, I suppose that while he has received new 
wounds, the old ones of his heart have been healed.” 

u It is indeed our uncle,” replied Felix, “ about whom the 
papers have had so much to say. Our mother mentioned 
him but seldom, but when she did so, it was with the warmest 
affection. I remember him very well : he was an ardent, no- 
ble-looking man; and when I call to mind his energetic, 
warlike appearance, I can hardly understand what could ever 
have induced him to occupy the post of chamberlain.” 

“ There was something strange in the whole affair. When 
I saw him, he showed very plainly that, although a native, 
he thought every thing at the court of his prince too limited. 
He only came on a visit, and with the intention of entering 
into the service of my present sovereign. A short time after 
my return hither, I was not a little astonished at hearing that 
he had turned chamberlain.” 

“ I know nothing nearer about it ; mother always main- 
tained a strict silence with regard to it. It seems, however, 
not towards Heloise, for I have just noticed that she is sitting 
there with a crimson face, and her eyes on the ground.” 


18 


HELOISE. 


“We will not trouble her with inquiries ,” said the good 
lady, and proceeded with her stories. Meanwhile ten o’clock 
drew near, and Felix grew more and more uneasy. Heloise 
noticed it. 

“ Is it not time for you to go, brother ? ” she said. 

“ Are you tired, darling ?” he inquired, with some em- 
barrassment. 

“ No — and still — yes, I am tired. I shall soon ask Ma- 
dame to excuse me. But, besides that, you will be too late if 
you stay longer.” 

“ Oh ! I’m in no hurry ; I shall be there in time,” said 
Felix, rising, while every motion showed that he was endea- 
voring to restrain his impatience. 

At length, with a tender “ good night,” they parted. 

Madame von Pollwitz soon after conducted Heloise to 
the apartment designed for her. It was a pleasant little 
room, with a light closet adjoining, in which she and her maid 
were to sleep. The latter was still occupied with unpacking 
and putting in order, and full of remarks about the domestics 
of the house, with which her mouth overflowed. 

While she was chatting away, Heloise undressed herself, 
and sundry reflections crowded in among the blissful sensa- 
tions with which joy at the meeting had filled her heart. 
“ He ought not to have gone,” she said to herself, — “ but am I 
not unjust in blaming him % Here, in this large city, at court, it 
is not as with us in the country, where every one can follow the 
dictates of his heart. How often has mother told me of how 
much importance circumstances, connections are, among the 
great world. And how cordial, how affectionate he was ! Just 
the same as ever ! No ; if any thing in his behavior could pain 
me, it was the little sorrow which the memory of his exem- 
plary mother seemed to awaken in him. And yet, should I 
not rejoice that he is happy ? And oh ! am I not happy 
with him ? To-morrow, in a quiet hour, I will tell him of the 


HELOISE. 


19 


death of the dear departed one, repeat what I have already 
written him, and weep with him. Then, perhaps, he will ask 
the question which I have so long expected, whether she has 
not left any documents for him ; I shall give him the paper — 
and — he will know all I” 

With these thoughts, accompanied by many tears, she fell 
asleep. Poor child ! The first night among strangers was 
to be her last happy one for a long time. With her heart 
full of hope, and her body fatigued by her journey, she slept 
sweetly and soundly. We, meanwhile, will give the reader 
an account of her former circumstances, as well as of those 
which brought her to her present abode. 

Por this purpose we must look very far back. 


CHAPTER II. 

heloise’s history. 

In one of the most beautiful regions of Germany, on a lonely 
manor, there lived, some time ago, the widowed Amelie von 
Waldeck, bestowing her entire time and attention on the edu- 
cation of two lovely children, a boy and girl. 

She fulfilled this duty with so much sense, so much ar- 
dor, that she was as worthy of the esteem as of the love of 
all who knew her. Manifold occupations, and the wild beau- 
ties of nature by which she was surrounded, easily consoled 
her for her banishment (in consequence of having incurred 
the anger of her prince) from a court for which she had been 
educated, and where she had spent the greater part of her life. 

The circumstances were these : some years before — when 
her son, Felix, was seven, and her little daughter, Heloise, 
only three years old — the old prince discovered that his daugh- 
ter, the Princess Antonia, whose rejection of every suitor 
had long been vexatious to him, had, about four years before, 
been secretly married to her chamberlain, Count Staden, and 
that the sister of the latter, since three years the widow of 
Mr. von Waldeck, had been the confidante of the whole affair. 
The count escaped the just displeasure of his sovereign by 
leaving the country. He went to Russia, entered the army 
there, to seek death in his despair, but found honor and fame, 
and indeed, in gradual oblivion, a new though limited hap- 
piness. 

The princess met her father’s fury with respectful firm- 
ness. Her marriage, on her assurance that she had no chil- 


HELOISE. 


21 


dren, was declared invalid. But no prayers, no threats, could 
induce her to give her hand to a neighboring prince, who had 
offered himself to her. 

Fearing to make the scandalous secret known, if he used 
forcible means, her father at last desisted, and allowed her 
to lament the loss of her love at a country seat in the vicinity 
of the capital. It was in vain, however, that she endeavored 
to obtain permission for Madame von Waldeck, who was ban- 
ished from court, to accompany her. She showed her father 
letters which contained indubitable proof that her friend had 
not only not approved of her private marriage, but had done 
all that was in her power to prevent it ; and only when it 
had, nevertheless, taken place without her knowledge, she 
had consented to become the confidante of the lovers. All 
was in vain ! The moral superiority of the young widow had 
long made her an object of hatred to some of the old prince’s 
influential officers. She retired to the estates which her de- 
ceased husband had left to his little son, whose guardian she 
was. Heloise was not born till some months after Mr. von 
W aldeck’s death, while his young widow, in order to pass the 
mourning year in solitude, was residing on one of her most 
distant estates, and the princess, whose health was very bad, 
was with her on a visit. With many tears the two friends 
parted now, separated by the prince’s anger, and Amelie, who 
was the more composed of the two, was obliged to tear little 
Heloise forcibly from the arms of the princess. Some years 
later, the tears of the latter obtained for her the privilege of 
an annual visit from her friend, who never neglected to bring 
the children, who were then loaded with caresses and presents, 
and always revelled, for months beforehand, in the joyful an- 
ticipation of this journey. 

The overwise courtiers may have been right when they 
conjectured that the princess had a nearer interest in the 
charming little Heloise. However, she could not have trusted 


22 


HELOISE. 


her duties and rights in better hands than in those of Ma- 
dame von Waldeck. The two children were educated with 
a degree of wisdom which was hardly to be looked for in a 
young lady brought up at court. Felix, the legacy of an 
honored husband, and Heloise, bequeathed to her by a be- 
loved brother, were equally dear to her heart. But thirty 
years of age, of prepossessing appearance, and rich, the world, 
with all its joys and treasures, still lay before her ; but she 
willingly gave up all for these little ones. Fortune had be- 
stowed upon her, in the person of the minister of the village, 
an able assistant, and at the same time a noble-hearted friend, 
whose intercourse gave her the means of developing herself 
more and more, and thus capacitated her better for the edu- 
cation of her children. It had become the warmest wish of 
her heart to bring up these two innocent beings, not only 
with, but also for, each other. 

Her brother, as well as the princess, gave their joyful 
consent to this plan. The count had no fortune, and Heloise 
could not expect to be an heiress, for her mother’s jewels and 
other things of value would, at her death, fall back upon the 
old prince. The milder sentiments of his future successor 
gave room for the hope that he would recall the count ; and 
in the certainty, grounded on his well-known character, that 
he would not hate his sister’s child, it was hoped that the 
stratagem might then be brought to light. Madame von 
Waldeck resolved, therefore, to treat the children as brother 
and sister until after the death of the old prince, which was 
seemingly not very far off, partly for Heloise’s security, partly 
to keep up between them an entirely unconstrained inter- 
course. Circumstances, but still more the tender and almost 
unexampled love which the children manifested for each other, 
favored her plans. 

The situation of Castle Waldeck was in the highest de- 
gree lonely and remote, and the few neighbors that it had, 


HELOISE. 


23 


bailiffs and ignorant country squires, were hardly fit inter- 
course for its mistress. Years passed away, and Felix saw 
no other child than Heloise, Heloise none but him. The boy 
seldom took advantage of the permission which he had, some- 
times to play at soldier with the village boys, because then 
he had to leave his sister, and her quiet, firm, and affectionate 
disposition scon gave her a considerable influence over the 
thoughtless, mischievous little fellow. He often tyrannized 
her by his impetuosity, and hurt her feelings by his wild 
heedlessness, but he always found means to obtain her ready 
forgiveness by insinuating words and assurances of repent- 
ance. With his feelings so susceptible to every impression, 
with his reckless spirit, and fiery temper, Madame von Wal- 
deck looked forward with much anxiety to the time when, 
too old for the instructions of the minister and his tutor, he 
must go to the university. Providence had also favored her 
exceedingly in the choice of a tutor, by sending her a worthy 
and highly educated young man, who, besides, was able to 
instruct Felix in those chivalrous exercises which are an 
ornament to a man, and for which Felix, although he had a 
good head, and fine abilities for learning, as for every thing 
else, manifested a strong predilection. He was soon before 
his master in riding, fencing, and shooting ; for the latter he 
was particularly capacitated by a steady hand and correct 
eye. He little dreamt that the skill which he acquired in this 
art was to be of the greatest use to him somewhat later, at one 
of the most important moments of his life. 

The time for the separation came at last. Eighteen 
years of age, rich, handsome, hot-headed — what dangers 
was he not exposed to ! Felix himself had long since thought 
with a secret longing of this first step into the world, but 
when he saw the tears rising in Heloise’s eye, a sadness came 
over his heart, and he tried to hide, by the most crazy pranks, 
the emotion of which he was ashamed. But when Heloise 


24 


HELOISE. 


took his hand, and looking at him with her dove-like eyes, 
prayed, “ Ah ! Felix, do not jest when I weep !” he would 
throw himself sobbing into her arms, and promise her and 
himself to write to her every week, and to come and see her 
regularly in the vacations. The pastor’s wife, who was not, 
like her husband, in the secret, was once witness of a similar 
scene. “Well, Miss Heloise,” she said, laughing ; “it can’t 
always be so. Some time or other, when a handsome gentle- 
man comes and takes you home with him, you will have to be 
separated from your brother, at any rate.” 

But — “No,” cried the little girl, eagerly; “no — I shall 
never marry ; I never could love a husband as much as I do 
Felix !” Her friend smiled, and said, “We will wait a few 
years!” But Madame von Waldeck witnessed this tender- 
ness with inward joy. 

Sadder than ever, Felix at length bid adieu to the home 
where he left behind him so much love. But he soon thought 
he had reason to be convinced that he found as much in the 
circle of companions which awaited him. He made so many 
friendships, that Heloise was delighted, and his mother did 
not know whether she should be pleased or anxious. Among 
ladies, however, he did not feel as much at home. “ None of 
the girls,” he wrote to Heloise, in his laconic style, “ please 
me ; compared with you, at least, they are all not worth 
much. None of them is as pretty, none as sensible, and, 
particularly, not one as good as you.” His sister read 
it with burning cheeks, and proved to him in her answer that 
she was neither pretty nor sensible, that she only had a good 
heart, and that in that heart he, above all others, had a large 
place. The mother, seeing him so favorably inclined, took 
good care not to make him, by untimely warnings against 
love intrigues, anxious to see whether forbidden fruit is in 
reality as sweet as it is said to be. 

Felix, after an absence of half a year, had enjoyed the 


HELOISE, 


25 


meeting with his loved ones heartily ; and his second visit, in 
the following spring, was being looked forward to with the 
greatest impatience, when, suddenly, a letter arrived from 
one of the ladies of the Princess Antonia, informing Madame 
von Waldeck of the critical state of her noble friend’s health, 
and expressing the wish of the latter that she should come to 
her without delay. G-rief had long been undermining her 
constitution with diligent hands, and some outward circum- 
stances had now suddenly endangered her life. Seeing death, 
which she had longed for with a morbid enthusiasm, brought 
so near, she desired to bid farewell to her friend, and to press 
Heloise, her dearest treasure in this world, to her heart once 
more before she should depart. 

Madame von Waldeck, bowed down by violent grief, set 
out on her journey immediately. Heloise wept by her side, 
for she dearly loved the beautiful, pale lady, whose look of 
sadness was brightened by a ray of tender affection when it 
fell on her. When the travellers arrived, the princess was 
past all hope. The prince royal was with her. His sister 
had told him all, and, as a last favor, had asked and received 
the promise that he would recall Count Staden as soon as it 
was in his power, and acknowledge Heloise as his and her 
legitimate child. Madame von Waldeck now thought that 
she ought not to keep the sad secret from Heloise any longer ; 
for it seemed to her cruel to deprive her of the precious 
moment in which she could embrace her mother for the last 
time. In the arms of the weeping girl the princess breathed 
her last, blessing her, and admonishing her to obey her 
foster-mother in all things, and to love her banished, un- 
happy father. 

Unspeakably wretched did poor Heloise feel the next 
day, as she sat beside Madame von Waldeck in the carriage, 
on their homeward journey ; for the remains of the princess 
had been taken to the capital, where the solemn obsequies 
2 


26 


HELOISE. 


were to be held, and friend and daughter were not allowed to 
follow them. In one moment she had lost two mothers and a 
brother ! How alone did she suddenly stand in the world ! 
For her father was many hundred miles off — she had never 
seen him ; he had never given her any proof that he loved 
her. Her friend let her weep undisturbed. But when, the 
next day, arrived at home, she saw her giving way to a 
strange melancholy, she remonstrated with her seriously and 
kindly, and asked her whether the care and attention which 
she had bestowed on her for so many years, did not make 
her worthy of the name of mother? Heloise threw her- 
self, weeping bitterly, into her arms, and cried, “ Oh ! my 
mother ! yes — you are a mother to me ! I have felt it a 
thousand times in my inmost heart that you are. Have you 
not watched over me during my whole life, with more than a 
mother’s care ? Bid you not plant, by a thousand blessings 
and marks of affection, the warmest filial love in my heart ? 
Why should I not be your daughter ?” 

“You are,” said Madame von Waldeck, with emo- 
tion, and pressed her to her breast ; “ for love is the 
strongest tie. At one time your helplessness chained me to 
you, and now your amiability ; the purity of your soul has 
made the bonds indissoluble. What more could a mother 
say to you? Blood ! they say? Does not the blood of a be- 
loved brother flow in your veins ? and is that not also mine ? 
Yes, my Heloise ! the two beings whom Heaven has placed 
nearest to me in this world, belong also to you. Your father 
is the oldest friend of my heart, and your brother — ” 

Heloise turned pale, and averting her face, “ My brother,” 
she repeated. “ Ah, he is no more my brother ! Oh, 
mother ! never let him know it. Dearest mother, let me al- 
ways be his sister — let me never be a stranger to him !” 

“ My child,” replied Madame von Waldeck, and her tone 
grew by degrees more and more solemn ; “ may he ever be 


HELOISE. 


27 


your — may you be his — dearest friend. This is my wish, 
it is that of your father; it is the prayer of your de- 
parted mother. You have lost a brother to gain a bride- 
groom. Yes, blush, my Heloise. I consider you as one of 
the most fortunate of your sex ; for you are the first and 
only love of your beloved. Not romantic blindness, not un- 
occupied imagination, not inordinate desire, have given him 
to you. He knows you perfectly, and loves you wholly, 
because he knows you so well. He loves you with the whole 
force of an innocent heart. And I, my Heloise, am I not 
the happiest of mothers, that I can give to my son a partner 
for life, whose mother I shall then doubly be, and who will 
doubly insure me his filial love 

Heloise lay in her arms, hiding her face with both hands. 
u Oh ! my mother !” she murmured, but her emotion did not 
let her continue. The mother pressed her to her once more, 
and then left her alone with a heart agitated more than ever 
before, but full of tenderness and gratitude. 

The journey to the death-bed of the princess had taken 
place during Felix’s vacation, and had prevented his visit. 
Autumn, and with it the third recess, was approaching, and 
would bring him home once more. His mother and sister 
were preparing for his reception ; the first, by considering 
in what way she should disclose to him her secret ; and He- 
loise, by trying to conquer her uneasiness. But, instead of 
him, there came quite unexpectedly a letter, saying that his 
friends had been so urgent in their entreaties to have him 
take advantage of his leisure at this beautiful season, and 
join them in a journey to Switzerland, that he could not 
resist. The hope of heartfelt enjoyment which he took with 
him, would, he was sure, excuse him with his mother and 
sister. Next spring, he hoped to have the happiness of 
being with them all the longer. 

His mother was dissatisfied, Heloise piqued. But his 


28 


HELOISE. 


letters, so full of enthusiasm, the wish, so often expressed in 
them, that his beloved ones might share his enjoyment, the 
love with which his happy heart seemed overflowing, all these 
soon reconciled both, and before long they were grateful to 
the friends who had occasioned him so much pleasure, and 
enhanced it by their companionship. The young men who, 
though not all possessed of genius, were full of romance, fan- 
tastically dressed and proudly elated by the invigorating 
feeling of their liberty, met with a thousand adventures, 
which one of them put in rhyme, another made sketches of, 
and Felix transmitted to his sister with every post. The 
dear child enjoyed these descriptions with her whole heart. 
u He is happy, mother,” she said, “what more could I wish?” 

The winter passed in pleasant anticipation. With the 
approach of spring, that strange, troubled feeling, stole into 
her heart again, and increased with every day. But when, 
one day sooner than she had expected, she saw Felix gallop- 
ing into the court-yard, taller and stouter than before, but 
otherwise just the same merry, affectionate Felix, her heart, 
too, was suddenly itself again. With a cry of joy, she flew 
down stairs, threw herself into his arms, and summoned the 
whole household to witness her happiness. Felix could not 
take his eyes off his beautiful, blooming sister. “ How lovely 
you have grown,” he said, twenty times, and she blushed as 
she heard it, but felt no embarrassment. In the evening 
she said to her mother, “ I can hardly believe that he is not 
my brother ! My heart, at least, cannot be convinced of it. 
To a lover, so I always thought, at least, a modest girl should 
grant a kiss only with a blush ; but when Felix kisses me, I 
assure you, dear mother, I feel just as if it were you.” 

“ God bless you, my child,” replied the mother, u and may 
that feeling always remain the same in you.” 

And it did remain so. Madame von Waldeck, touched 
by the innocence of the intercourse of her beloved children. 


HELOISE. 


29 


put off from day to day the revealing of her secret to Felix. 
The close relation in which she saw him, to a circle of 
thoughtless young men; the high ideas which he had of 
friendship and its obligations, one of the first of which he 
declared to be that of concealing nothing from one another, 
induced her at last to leave him still in ignorance of it, and 
to await the end of his academical career, when she could 
hope for the dissolution of some of these connections. 

During four years, Felix attended several universities, 
and formed himself into a polished, excellent, and highly 
cultivated man. At each visit, he found his sister more 
charming, amiable, and sensible ; and the intimate acquaint- 
ance with so superior a girl was doubtless the cause of his 
being rather indifferent towards the attractions of other 
females, and if he did enter into some trifling flirtations, his 
heart remained entirely untouched. Heloise, on the other 
hand, familiarized herself more and more with the idea of 
being his wife at some future time ; and through her cherish- 
ing and fostering it for years, her future assumed a distinct 
shape before her soul, which neither outward incentive, nor 
enthusiastic fancy, could change in the least. 

The tenderness, the respect, which he manifested towards 
her, confirmed the idea. She did not think of wishing 
for more ; for every trace of passion was yet slumbering 
within her. 

The fame of her beauty drew, by degrees, several young 
noblemen into the neighborhood, but not one of them could 
make the least impression on her by his attentions. Madame 
von Waldeck was heartily pleased with this indifference, but 
she now thought seriously of bringing the lovers closer to- 
gether, and acquainting Felix with the secret, although their 
marriage could not be thought of during the lifetime of the 
old prince, whose death had been thought near for the last 
ten years. She therefore concluded to leave her manor, and 


30 


HELOISE. 


introduce Heloise into the world. She would choose for her 
residence any city where Felix might obtain a suitable di- 
plomatic appointment. In expectation of such an appoint- 
ment, he was now at the capital, and the old prince and his 
courtiers were not mean enough to consider the displeasure 
which his mother had drawn upon herself, before the merits 
of his late father and his own recommending qualities. He 
soon announced to his friends that he had been appointed 
secretary to the embassy which was about to be sent to a 
powerful monarch of northern Germany, expressed his impa- 
tience to see them again, and invited them with affectionate 
words to follow him. Madame von Waldeck, fortunately, had 
an early friend living in the city to which he was going, Ma- 
dame von Pollwitz, the lady whom we saw receiving Heloise 
at the commencement of our tale. She wrote to her, and 
announced herself and her daughter ; for she believed that 
under the pretext of a mere journey of pleasure, she might 
leave without tclat the dominions of her prince, who kept a 
watchful eye upon her continually. The attractions of the 
place, she thought, would present to her sufficient inducement 
for a longer stay. 

The truth of the saying, “ Man proposes, God disposes,” 
has been experienced by every one in the occurrences of his 
daily life. Our poor Heloise was now to have it impressed 
on her heart in a most trying way. All was ready ; all the 
trunks were packed. Heloise danced about among them, 
clapping her hands with joy. Madame von Waldeck stooped 
to put some trifle into one of them before locking it, uttered a 
cry, and fell back insensible. There was no physician in 
the neighborhood, and all present soon saw that here no- 
thing could be done, as it was an apoplectic fit with which 
their beloved mistress had been seized. She recovered her 
senses after a few hours, but was unable to speak; and 
could only direct her eyes, with a look full of tenderness and 


HELOISE. 


31 


affection, towards the unhappy Heloise, who knelt by her 
bed, pale as death, and bathed in tears. She informed her by 
signs that she was now to go alone to Madame von Pollwitz, 
where Felix would meet her. When the name of the dear 
absent one was mentioned to her, she gave to understand that 
she wished to write to him, and with a trembling hand she 
Wrote, in hardly legible characters, the following words : 

u My Felix ! Your dying mother sends you her blessing. 
Look to G-od in every thing. Heloise will tell you all. She 
will become your wife. This is my last will !” 

The exertion had fatigued her. Soon after she again 
became unconscious, and awoke no more. 

We say nothing of the bitter anguish of Heloise. Who- 
ever has had the misfortune to lose the dearest friend on 
earth, can feel for her ; and to those whom Providence has 
yet spared such an affliction, words cannot give an idea of it. 
In the village pastor she possessed a faithful friend, an able 
adviser. The only thing which might have given her 
some consolation, would have been Felix’s presence ; but 
this too was to be denied her. Before the minister’s letter, 
which announced to him his irreparable loss, could have 
reached him, one from him informed Heloise that he was 
already on his way to England, where a commission from 
his prince, which required the most speedy execution, had 
sent him. He therefore begged her and his mother to give 
up their journey for the present, as his business would per- 
haps keep him away for several months. The whole burden 
of the affairs with which, after a death, the unfortunate 
bereaved family are overwhelmed, now fell upon Heloise. 
She was at first appalled by it; but the three months 
which passed before all these arrangements were completed, 
developed in her powers of soul and character which she 
had never before given herself credit for, and which those with 
whom business brought her together, had never known in her. 


32 


HELOISE. 


Her affairs, however, were much simplified by the fact 
that the whole property, even the capital which had been left 
to Madame von Waldeck at the death of her husband, fell ex- 
clusively to Felix. He had shortly before come of age. In 
a former will of his mother, she had bequeathed her jewels, 
her wardrobe, and a quantity of other personal property, to 
Heloise, and imposed upon Felix the duty of settling upon 
her a certain moderate annuity. In the same document, the 
minister, the kind friend of Heloise, had been nominated her 
guardian. This will had been drawn up before the death of 
the princess, and therefore contained nothing in reference to 
the prince royal, who was not then in the secret. The fact 
that no capital had been left to Heloise, was at first very 
surprising to Felix ; but, thoughtless and noble-minded as 
he was, especially in money matters, he drew no other infe- 
rence from it than that it was now doubly his duty to take 
care of his sister. 

Six months had passed, and Felix had at length returned to 
the legation. But Heloise had now accustomed herself to 
solitude. She had taken the place of the departed one, had 
become the benefactress of the poor, the patroness of the 
schools. Resolved as she was to pass at least the mourning 
year at Waldeck, she was only induced by Felix’s more and 
more urgent entreaties, to leave it already after nine months. 
Madame von Pollwitz had, on hearing of her friend’s death, 
and repeatedly afterwards, placed her house at Heloise’s 
disposal. The reader has seen, in the beginning of the book, 
that Felix was yet in ignorance of the secret. A very 
natural embarrassment restrained Heloise. If he had come 
for her himself, she might have found the right moment, but 
the ambassador could not spare him again after so long an 
absence. The accidental circumstance that Felix never 
asked, in his letters, whether his mother had not left any 
documents for him, was the excuse which she made to herself 


HELOISE. 


33 


for keeping the last lines of the beloved hand from him so 
long. With an anxious and agitated heart she set out 
on her journey. Lisette, who had been long in her and her 
mother’s service, accompanied her. We have seen her 
arrive, and welcome Felix, and left her in a quiet, peaceful 
slumber. 


CHAPTER III. 


BROTHER AND SISTER. 

Always accustomed to a careful employment of her time, He- 
loise awoke early, when the whole household was still asleep. 
Only Lisette was moving about in the adjoining room, occu- 
pied with arranging it and putting her mistress’s wardrobe 
in order. Our heroine rose, and, after dressing, was just 
about to assist her maid in her occupation, when a slight 
knock at her door was heard, and Felix entered the room. 

“ My dear Felix ! so early !” she cried, in a tone of joyful 
surprise ; but added, with much concern, when she noticed, 
on looking at him more closely, the pallor of his face and his 
disturbed mien : “ But, dearest brother, how you look ! What 
has happened ?” 

■ u Nothing at all,” he replied, smiling ; u I only came home 
towards morning, and as I wanted to speak to you before you 
would perhaps have to breakfast with Madame von Pollwitz, 
I did not lie down at all.” 

“ Have you only just now returned from that party ?” 

“ Oh, no ; I left it some hours ago ; but before I had 
changed my dress, the time drew near when I could see you ; 
and besides that, I had a good many things on my mind which 
would not have let me sleep much at any rate.” 

“ What is it that troubles you, brother ?” asked Heloise, 
with affectionate concern. 

“ Leave us alone, Lisette,” he said to the maid. She 
went. Heloise grew more and more uneasy. u My dear 


IIELOISE. 


35 


child,” continued Felix, “ don’t he frightened. Is it not na- 
tural that, after so long a separation, we should have much 
to say to each other, which is not fit for a servant’s ears ?” 

“ You are right,” replied Heloise, in a serious tone. “ Sit 
down here by me. We have indeed much to tell each other.” 
Her heart beat audibly at these words, and a voice whispered 
to her, u The moment has now come ; he must now learn that 
I am not his sister, but his bride !” * 

Felix sat by her side, lost in thought. He had taken her 
hand, and was silently playing with its little fingers ; but sud- 
denly he raised it to his lips and covered it with kisses, at 
the same time expressing his admiration of the pretty little 
white hand. Heloise withdrew it with some displeasure ; 
for, occupied as she had been during the pause, with the last 
sacred moments of their departed friend, with a question of 
which she was in momentary expectation, the gallantry of her 
beloved rather hurt than flattered her. He again relapsed 
into profound silence. 

“ Felix,” she said at length, summoning all her courage, 
“ Do our thoughts perhaps meet at this moment ?” 

u Hardly,” he answered, and she continued : 

u Have you no questions to ask me ?” 

11 Questions enough, but my heart is now so full, that I 
must unburden it before I admit any thing more into it. 
Dearest sister, I have something to confide to you !” 

“ Something to confide ?” she asked, in surprise. “ You 
too V* 

« I too ? my dear Heloise, have you, perhaps, a similar 
secret on your mind ?” 

« A similar one % How can I know of what nature yours 
is ?” she replied, forcing a smile. “ It is true I have a great 

* The terms, bride and bridegroom , in Germany, are applied to young 
people before marriage, as soon as they are betrothed. 


36 


HELOISE. 


deal to tell you, and how could it be otherwise, when I have 
experienced the most important moment of my life since I 
last saw you.” 

u My dear sister,” said Felix, “ do not doubt that it is of 
equal importance to me. But our beloved mother will for- 
give me, if, before I call upon you for a relation, every word 
of which is sacred and dear to me, as was every thing which 
you wrote to me with regard to her death — if, I say, before 
listening to this relation, I deliver my heart of a secret 
which has now weighed me down for several weeks past, be- 
cause I have not yet communicated it to you, my own He- 
loise ; to you, who have the first right to my confidence.” 

Heloise was silent, and regarding him with anxious and 
eager attention, she said to herself, “ Is it possible ! can he 
know it already !” 

“ Dearest Heloise,” continued Felix, drawing nearer and 
putting his arm around her, “ it seemed as if I hurt your 
feelings yesterday, by the words, 1 1 am happier than ever ; 
I cannot help it.’ To-day I will add, 4 and often I could call 
myself more unhappy than I ever feared to be.’ You cannot 
misunderstand me when you have heard my confession — 
I love!” 

At these words a feeling shot through Heloise, which no 
pen can describe. An ice-cold hand seemed suddenly to be 
laid on her burning heart ; her breath stopped, and her eyes 
grew dim. Without knowing what she did, she tore herself 
with violence from the arms of Felix, who, solely occupied, 
with what he was going to say, did not notice the change in 
her color and mien, and went on. 

i “ I love, with all the passion and all the fervor of which 
my heart is capable, the most charming, fascinating creature 
under the sun ; and what is more, I am so fortunate as to know 
that my love is returned with equal tenderness. The unspeak- 
able bliss of this assurance often causes me to overlook all 


HELOISE. 


37 


the obstacles which stand in the way of our union.” He 
paused. 

u Tell me all,” said Heloise, in so low a tone that he could 
not remark the trembling of her voice. 

u But I must not overlook them, if I would remove 
them ; and to do that is my firm resolution, for there is no 
happiness for me but in the possession of my sweet, charming 
Emma.” 

u Emma is her name ?” 

“ Emma von Willingen. Oh, my dear Heloise ! what a 
lovely, enchanting creature ! You will — you must be friends. 
She has long known you and loved you. You have many a 
time been the subject of our conversation. She wanted to 
know every thing about you, even the color of your eyes. 
The most irresistible, most transporting little creature under 
the sun !” 

“ Have you known her long V 1 

u It is just eight weeks to-day since I saw her for the 
first time. She came from church, before which I was stand- 
ing with several friends and acquaintances. A crowd of poor 
people of every description surrounded the church door. 
She stopped, compassionately, spoke a kind word to each 
one, divided the contents of her purse among them, and, at 
last, when she had nothing left, she gave the delicate little 
purse itself to an old man who just came up. I heard her 
say with her silvery voice, u Sell it, good father ; I worked it 
myself.” But hardly had a pair of fleet horses, which were 
awaiting the divine girl, conveyed her away, before I sprang 
forward and gave the old man a large sum for the purse. I 
took it away with me, and intended to use it for charitable 
purposes ; but when I met Emma again, and she grew dearer 
and dearer to me, I feared that use would wear out the little 
love-token, and since then I have worn it next my heart.” 

“ And how did you see her again ?” 


38 


HELOISE. 


“ As the brilliant belle of a ball, where all paid homage 
to her, where her charms outshone all. I had only to see 
her dance — the little, zephyr-like sylph — to be completely 
enchanted ! On this occasion, too, I found reason to hope 
that I was not indifferent to her, and soon after acquired 
the blissful certainty that she loved me.” 

u So soon ?” 

“ Dear sister, love cares not for watch or almanac ; 
he makes his own laws for time and hours. One look, 
directed by him, and understood by his disciple, reveals more 
than a whole eternity could teach. Emma, affectionate and 
tender as she is, often did her best to keep up this certainty 
within me ; but she is so much the object of admiration and 
worship, that my heart is continually tortured by the sharp- 
est pangs of jealousy. What did I not suffer yesterday ! 
what did she not make of me ! and how well she understands 
to touch the tenderest spot in my heart !” 

“ Did you see her yesterday ?” 

“ It was on her account that I had to go to the chamber- 
lain’s soiree ; for no other reason would I have left you so 
soon after our meeting, dearest sister. She alone could sup- 
plant you. She knew that I was aware of her going there ; she 
herself had let me know her intention of so doing. I might 
have given up the pleasure of seeing her, on your account, 
but to brave her anger — you see,” he added, smiling, “ your 
proud, tyrannical Felix, who so often abused your patience, 
you little gentle dove, is transformed into a poor, humble 
slave. Her smile makes me the happiest of men, her dis- 
pleasure disconcerts me entirely ; and yesterday it gave me 
a sleepless night.” 

“ You came, and still she was displeased?” 

“ I deserved censure,” he replied, slightly embarrassed, 
and forcing a smile. “She had expected me three hours 
before I came. She had not a single look for me. She 


HELOISE. 


39 


beamed with beauty and loveliness, but she seemed to be beau- 
tiful and lovely only for the circle of fops and impudent 
coxcombs which surrounded her. Sister ! I suffered terribly ! 
At last I succeeded in reaching her side, and speaking to 
her unnoticed by the others. I reproached her violently ; 
she gave me the bitterest words in return. She loves me, 
and love is suspicious, and watches over his rights. In short, 
it was I alone who was in fault, and I do believe that in the 
end I begged her pardon. She has the sweetest, most charm- 
ing way of forgiving ; but, nevertheless, I still felt discon- 
tented. Sister, do not be unjust ; Emma is good and affec- 
tionate, but she is a woman — ” 

“ You are exceedingly civil, brother. I am certainly very 
much obliged to you for that remark.” 

u Do not take offence at it, dear Heloise. You are the 
personification of gentleness and kindness; but you have 
never loved, and cannot — or what — is it not so ?” he added, 
starting, as he saw her delicate face, which, during the con- 
versation, through the violent exertion of repressing all her 
painfully excited feelings into her bosom, had grown paler 
and paler, suddenly suffused with a dark crimson — u can it 
be otherwise ? Good heavens !” he continued, more and more 
disturbed ; “ you said a short time ago, you too — the secret — ” 
u It is no matter — what are you thinking of? Really,” 
she added, not without bitterness, “ it was no love story that 
I had to tell you. Nevermind that now; my secret is not 
so very important, and we can find a more suitable time to 
speak of it. Tell me all, now. You mentioned before that 
you did not see her often ?” 

u To my sorrow, not often enough. She lives with her 
grandfather, an old man, to whom every visit is a bore, except 
that of two superannuated comrades of his, who come regu- 
larly for a game of whist, at which the grandmother makes 
the fourth. All my attempts to gain admission to the house 


40 


JiELOISE. 


have been fruitless. I can only see the sweet girl at parties, 
at the theatre, or at concerts and other similar occasions. 
Alone I can only see her when I escort her home in the 
evening, when, to be sure, we take many a circuitous route, 
and employ our time well. The pedantic order in the house 
of the colonel, and the silly curiosity of the old lady, have 
hitherto made it impossible for Emma to let me visit her 
secretly. Out of the house she can do just what she likes, 
and visit whomever she pleases ; but at home she can do no- 
thing that infringes upon the domestic rules of the old people, 
who like quiet above every thing else.” 

“ Does she go to parties and public places of amusement 
all alone?” 

“ She goes under the protection, sometimes of one, some- 
times of another, friend ; but, unfortunately, she is not inti- 
mate enough with any one of them to make use of her house 
to see me alone sometimes. I have often urged Emma to 
bring this about, but she has no confidante among her friends. 
The younger ones are all envious, and the older ones have 
daughters or nieces who are so. Emma herself was so ex- 
ceedingly kind as to propose to me, that we might meet in 
one of the public gardens at a time when it is not frequented ; 
but I trembled for her reputation. Fearing that we might 
be seen. there, I had the forbearance to refuse. Our only 
hope now rests upon you, my good little sister. You will 
visit her — she you — you will be friends — nothing is more na- 
tural ; and I can see her here every day. How have I there- 
fore longed for your arrival, dearest Heloise ! How have I 
therefore urged you to hasten your journey l” 

“Was it for this?” thought Heloise. Her heart was 
crushed, her voice nearly failed her, but still she summoned 
all the strength which her injured maidenly pride lent her, 
to ask in an indifferent tone : “ But why, Felix, do you not 
act in this affair as an honorable man ought to act ? Of what 


HELOISE. 


41 


use is all this secrecy? What prevents you from going di- 
rectly to Emma’s grandparents and asking her hand ofthem, 
as you are certain of her love ? What could induce them to 
give you a refusal ?” 

“ Ah ! dearest sister !” rejoined Felix, “ that is just what 
I had yet to tell you. Emma is engaged /” 

These words called up a strange mixture of feelings in 
Heloise’s breast. “ Engaged ?” she repeated. 

“ She has been, since her fourteenth year, betrothed to 
her cousin ; a family compromise to settle an interminable 
lawsuit. The lovely creature is to be sacrificed to the peace, 
the domestic comfort, of the old people. The cousin is six- 
teen years her senior ; she knows him only from her childish 
recollections, for he has spent the seven years that have 
passed since her grandparents coupled her to him, in tra- 
velling.” 

“ If such is the state of things,” said Heleise, with con- 
straint, “ no real love can be expected on his side, and he 
could, perhaps, if he was informed of Emma’s sentiments, be 
induced to draw back.” 

“ That is my chief ground for hope. There is a sort of 
condition in the contract, about not leaving Emma’s feelings 
unconsulted ; but nothing can be done before the cousin’s 
return. The grandparents are tough, obstinate, and inacces- 
sible. I would doubtless expose myself to a refusal. I must 
speak to and negotiate with him himself. I am ready for any 
pecuniary sacrifice. For the present, I suppose I must be 
satisfied with seeing Emma secretly.” 

u Will he come soon ?” asked Heloise timidly. 

u Nothing has been heard about him for a long time. If 
I only knew where he is at present ! He may come to-mor- 
row, and may stay away another year. He writes to the 
colonel from time to time, but very seldom.” 

“ So he has heard so little of his bride in those seven years?” 


42 


HELOISE. 


“ He corresponds with a lady here, who perhaps has not 
left him entirely uninformed ; it is the Baroness Starnberg, 
whose acquaintance you made last night. They are said to 
have been in love with each other at one time, and still keep 
up a sort of tender connection which they call friendship. 
This pure friendship, however, seems not to be pure enough 
to be free from jealousy, for it is very evident that the baro- 
ness dislikes Emma because she is to be her successor. That 
will account to you for the singular manner which she as- 
sumed towards me last night, for she knew that Emma had 
expressly requested me to come to the party.” 

“ You are perhaps unjust, Felix,” remarked Heloise: “ if 
she is jealous of Emma on her friend’s account, would she not 
rather seek to promote her union with another ?” 

“ That is very true,” replied the young man, musingly ; 
“ still I am too certain that she cannot bear Emma. I have 
a thousand proofs of that, and I dislike her heartily for it. 
But the clock is striking nine ; Madame von Pollwitz will 
soon send for you to breakfast. I shall see you again at 
dinner — she has invited me. But tell me, first, when will 
you call on my Emma 

“ I did not intend to go out so soon, dear brother. How- 
ever — if perhaps — if you wish it — ” she was terribly confused, 
and hardly knew what she said. 

“ If I wish it ?” he cried, in great astonishment, “ after I have 
expressed to you the hope of seeing her daily in your room ?” 

“ Very well,” she replied, hurriedly, “ to-morrow — to- 
morrow morning ! only not to-day — not to-day !” 

. “ My dear sister,” said Felix, much surprised, “ I hardly 
know you — you are not yourself any more — ” 

“ Brother,” said Heloise, quickly recovering herself, 

“ should I not be a little offended, that you kept your love so 
long a secret from me, who have been your confidante from 
our childhood ?” 


HELOISE. 43 

“ You are not reasonable, Heloise. Remember that 1 
expected daily to see you — ” 

“Well, well,” interrupted Heloise, with a forced smile, 
“ I am not angry any more ; but you had better go now — 
Madame yon Pollwitz must be waiting for me.” 

u Hood bye, then,” he said, embracing her, with the inten- 
tion of kissing her cheek, as was his wont ; but she prevented 
it by a quick movement, and accompanied him to the door 
with hasty steps. 

“ What strange behavior ! ” said Felix, wonderingly, to 
himself, as he left the room. “ She was evidently provoked that 
I had made my choice without her advice and approval. This 
surprises me in Heloise, who is always so disinterested and 
affectionate ! Oh, despotism of woman’s caprices ! In every 
way dost thou torment me ! But courage ! It will not last 
long with her. And if I ask myself — would such a disclosure 
on her part have been acceptable to me eight weeks ago? 
And even now ?” 

He suddenly remembered Heloise’s secret, and although 
he rejected the idea entirely, as she had assured him that it 
was nothing of that kind, yet he could not help feeling some- 
what troubled at the mere possibility of not always occupy- 
ing the first place in the heart of this exemplary girl. He 
resolved to question her on this point, when next they were 
alone, and soon his mind was again occupied solely with his 
Emma. 

Heloise locked the door behind her cousin, bolted it, 
mechanically, without knowing what she did, and then cross- 
ed the room in silence. But her strength was exhausted ; 
her limbs failed her. She sank down before the sofa, and, 
burying her face in the cushions, gave way to a flood of 
tears. u Oh ! my mother, my mother !” she cried, at last, 
in a tone of anguish, and so loud that she started at the 
sound of her own voice. “ Is it possible ?” she added, in a 


44 


HELOISE. 


lower tone, with trembling lips — “ What have I heard ? Has 
my whole life been a dream? What is now to become ol 
me ? Am I all alone in the world ? Is there no one that 
loves me in all the wide, wide world ? Oh, my mother, my 
mother ! Why did you leave me ?” She again concealed 
her face. One painful feeling chased the other in her mind : 
injured affection, wounded pride, jealousy, the feeling of hei 
loneliness, all these united to make her, for a few moments, 
one of the most miserable beings in the world. Suddenly 
she sprang up : “ And into what worthless hands has his 
heart fallen ! What a girl is this Emma ! She distributes 
alms in the face of a crowd of young men, whose eyes are fix- 
ed upon her ! And what affectation, that about the purse ! 
Could she not tell the old man to come to her house, where 
it was much more proper to give, at any rate ? How ridicu 
lous to tell him she had made it herself! Any one must 
be entirely blind, not to perceive that she only said these words 
for Felix. What modest girl will give her lover reason to 
hope at their second meeting? And carry a love intrigue to 
such an extent in eight short weeks, without the knowledge 
of her parents ! In the street ! And a bride ! And what 
behavior was that last night? What sort of love is that, 
which would suppress the most natural, the holiest feelings ? 
This Emma !” With these words she had been pacing up 
and down the room. At once her eye fell on the glass, and 
she started, frightened at herself, when she beheld her cheeks, 
burning with anger, and her eyes, from which flashed a 
strange passion. A still brighter glow covered her face, but 
now it was the glow of shame ; her eyes fell, and slowly fold- 
ing her hands, she stood awhile perfectly still. “ G-ood God I” 
she said at last, deeply dejected ; u what an unworthy sensation 
fills my heart and mind ! How mean, how miserable, does 
ignoble, humiliating jealousy make me ! Yes, do not conceal 
the name, give yourself up entirely to the shame of having 


HELOISE. 


45 


given it the power thus to debase you. In what an unkind, 
unwomanly light have I viewed Emma’s most innocent ac- 
tions ! Is giving alms such a virtuous act, that she should 
conceal it? She loves him — and should she be prudish and 
false, and hide it from him ? Oh Emma ! Eelix ! and you, 
my mother, forgive me ! Emma, should I hate you because 
Felix loves you? Unnatural love ! No, no — it was only 
for a moment that I could sink so low. Oh ! be happy ! I, I 
myself will make you happy, — here you shall meet, and love 
each other, here you shall be happy — I will look on with 
these eyes, — will bless you, and — die!” 

Tears once more relieved her aching breast, but they 
flowed more gently, and her heart beat less violently. 


CHAPTER IV. 


A maiden’s HEART. 

Heloise started on hearing a slight tap at her door, and 
Lisette’s voice requesting admittance. She dried her eyes, 
tried to compose herself, and opened the door. Her maid 
brought word that Madame von Pollwitz was expecting her 
to breakfast. She would have liked to assign indisposition 
or fatigue as an excuse for remaining alone a few hours 
longer, but the inward honesty of her character had ever 
taught her to shun all empty pretexts, and her mother con- 
firmed her in this course, all the more from having been con- 
vinced, by her early acquaintance with the intricate web ot 
deceit surrounding a small court, of the demoralizing influence 
which it inevitably exerts. Our heroine, therefore, sought 
to calm herself, and repaired, though with a somewhat dis- 
turbed expression of countenance, to the breakfast room. She 
was silent, when her hostess, after welcoming her with kind- 
ness and politeness, remarked her agitation, and attributed it, 
of her own accord, to the fatigue of the journey and the first 
meeting of a brother and sister after so sad a bereavement. 
But her tears started anew, as she suddenly remembered how 
far these natural and filial feelings had been crowded into 
the background of her soul, and how selfish were the sen- 
sations that had produced an effect which even a woman 
so indifferent and moderate as her companion seemed to be, 
thought natural, and indeed unavoidable, as arising from filial 


HELOISE. 


47 


grief. Her hostess was rather embarrassed at this burst of 
sorrow, and we do not know but what she might have been 
inclined to repent having offered the young orphan a home, 
had she not fortunately recollected that the gayeties and 
amusements of the capital must necessarily have the most be- 
neficial effect on her low spirits ; she therefore did not delay, 
while she seemed to take no notice of her young friend’s emo- 
tion, to tell her about all the pleasant and interesting acquaint- 
ances which she would make. She enumerated a great many 
noble names and titles, particularized those families where 
there were grown-up sons and daughters, and named, besides, 
sundry marriageable men ; the young gentlemen were almost 
all honored with some adjective — such as excellent, interest- 
ing, charming — and particular mention was made of those who 
were rich, or good dancers. 

Then she passed on to the theatre, and other opportunities 
for the enjoyment of the fine arts, which were in prospect, and 
although, when she began to criticise, the individual members 
of the stage and other disciples of Apollo did not fare as well 
as they might, yet she did not doubt but what all this would 
please Heloise in the highest degree, and mentioned several 
strangers from the country who had been enchanted with it. 

Heloise listened in silence. While her hostess was talk- 
ing, the picture of her nearest future spread itself out before 
her mind’s eye. Every word of the speaker added a new stroke 
to it, until at length it stood before her in terrible distinct- 
ness. She saw herself in the midst of a crowd of cold, strange 
faces ; not a single heart which beat for her, not a single hand 
which was tendered her, no eye that wept with her ; vague 
figures hovered around her ; she tried to grasp them, to cling 
to them, in the despairing feeling of her loneliness, but like 
shadows they escaped from her hands, and moved past her in 
cold silence. Alas ! one well-known beloved friend she re- 
cognized among the crowd, but he saw her not ; without no- 


48 


HELOISE. 


ticing her, without "bestowing upon her one loving look that 
might console her, he was soon lost among the mass of stran- 
gers. 

Thus she sat, motionless, lost in the most painful thoughts, 
her tearful eye fixed on the ground, and hardly heard, at last, 
what her hostess was saying, when a servant entered and in- 
terrupted the latter. He informed Heloise that the coachman 
who had brought her here desired to see her, and was waiting 
for her in her room. It seemed, he added, suppressing a 
laugh, as if the poor man was not very much pleased here ; 
he had made many complaints, and had spoken of going back 
again to-day. 

Heloise started up. Like lightning the thought flashed 
across her mind, that she might return with him to her home. 
To-day ! The idea seized her with such force, that a word in 
allusion to it involuntarily escaped her. Without taking any 
notice of the wondering mien of Madame von Pollwitz, she 
flew out of the door and to her room, where she found the 
honest countryman, whom she had known from her childhood, 
waiting for her. He declared to her, very frankly, that he 
could not stand it here any longer, every one made fun of 
him, and played tricks on him ; however, he could bear that, 
and laugh at it too ; but then he had been cheated in all sorts 
of ways, and if he did not get away from here soon, they 
would strip him entirely. He then enumerated, with the 
greatest precision, what he had had for supper and breakfast 
at the inn where he had stopped, and could not say enough 
about the enormous bill which had been made him there ; 
while, at the same time, he swore lustily at townsmen, rogues, 
and innkeepers, which words he appeared to regard as syno- 
nymous. 

While he was speaking, Heloise wavered. “ Away from 
here !” said the voice of her injured maidenly pride. “ Away 
from here — to day — now — so that his eyes may never behold 


HELOISE. 


49 


you more ! What does he care whether he sees you or not ? 
And yet he will certainly miss you — he will wonder, will per- 
haps be concerned at your sudden disappearance — perhaps 
sad, if he never hears a word about you again J Yes — and then 
the old, accustomed affection, that a stranger alienated from 
you, will again awake in his heart, and far away, vanished, 
dead, you will be nearer to him than in his most immediate 
vicinity — but still — who knows — ” 

W e dare not say whether it was the secret fear of being, 
in such a case, entirely forgotten by him, and deprived of all 
hope, which intruded itself almost involuntarily upon her 
mind, or the feeling of the impropriety of the step which she 
was about to take, which at last put a stop to the impetuous 
current of her thoughts. Enough, she began to perceive that 
so precipitate a departure would be as much an insult to her 
kind hostess, as she would make herself ridiculous by it. At 
length, therefore, she replied to the waiting peasant, who re- 
marked the agitation in her face with pitying wonder, consoled 
him with kind words, reminded him that it was she who paid 
all his expenses, and bade him not mind them. She tried to 
persuade him to stay yet a few days— she thought he owed 
this to his tired horses, each one of which she inquired after ; 
so that the good man, who loved his horses like his children, 
was highly pleased. He willingly agreed to remain longer, 
and it almost seemed as if his saying that he was going back 
that day, had only been a pretext for seeing his u dear young 
lady,” and telling her his trouble. Heloise then advised him 
to get some one to show him about in the city, told him of all 
the sights that she thought would interest him, and when he 
declared that he could not remember so many names, she wrote 
them all down on a piece of paper for him, without finding 
any thing in the least extraordinary in this condescension. By 
endeavoring to comfort the good old man, she had cheered 
herself, and when at last he took his leave, she said, half 


50 


HELOISE. 


sadly, half in joke : “Who knows, my good Henry, hut what 
I may go hack with you myself, if you stay a little longer.” 
She was, however, rather disconcerted when he said, very 
seriously, after looking at her for a few moments : “ I believe 
that would be the very best thing you could do, Miss. What 
is going to become of the school at home, that Miss thought so 
much of? Every thing will go backward in Waldeck — and, to 
be frank, you don’t look at all as if you would flourish here, 
my dear young lady!” “Well, well,” she answered, forcing a 
smile, “ be sure to come and see me every morning ; we can 
make our arrangements by and by.” 

The coachman went. Fortunately there was enough time 
before dinner, when she was to meet Felix again, for her to 
collect herself, and think over the events of the morning. She 
tried to recall word for word her conversation with Felix, 
and in the end she hardly knew whether the pain at the dis- 
closure he had made, or the shame at her own behavior, by 
which she had so disgracefully exposed herself and her 
feelings, occupied the largest place in her mind. She com- 
menced reproaching herself bitterly — “ What must he think 
of me ?” she said ; “ how unkind — how unsisterly must I have 
appeared to him ! And how — when at length he learns that 
I am not his sister — for I cannot keep it from him for ever — 
will he not then see through my heart ? Will he not recall 
every word, every mien, and assign the most humiliating 
causes to all of them ? And will he not be right ? 

“ Oh ! until every trace of them has passed from his 
memory, it shall remain an inviolable secret to him. Do your 
best, poor heart, to banish the recollection of them from his 
mind, and call together the entire force of your pride !” 

She also thought of the strange haste with which she had 
left her hostess, and, blaming herself for it, she resolved to 
endeavor to make up for it by the greatest kindness and 
attention ; and when, soon after, she joined her at dinner, 


HELOISE. 


51 


her natural childlike amiability soon enabled her to succeed 
in this. F elix, too, was received by her with composure, and 
pleasant words, and several times she called him, intentional- 
ly, u dear brother,” as if she wished to justify her feelings for 
him, before him and herself. She availed herself, with some 
haste, of an opportunity to draw him to the window, where 
she asked him, rather constrainedly, though without visible 
embarrassment : 

“ Was there perhaps something in my conduct this morn- 
ing that surprised you, my good Felix ?” 

“ Yes, indeed !” he answered frankly. 

u Do not think any thing of it, dear brother,” she rejoined. 
“ To tell you the truth, I, who have of late had only the most 
serious and the saddest thoughts, and believed your mind 
to be in the same state, was hardly prepared for such a 
confession, which deprived me in one moment of the sole 
participator of my grief, the only person who sympathized 
with me. You need not defend yourself, dear Felix,” she 
added, as he tried to interrupt her, u I see now, that I 
was unjust • for,” she continued, her voice faltering, “ love 
is an involuntary feeling, and we cannot command it when 
to come and when to go.” 

u Did I not know, my own Heloise,” he exclaimed, with 
emotion, “ that you are goodness itself, and that you only need 
a moment to return to the right course ?” 

With these words he was about to embrace her, but she 
quickly extricated herself from his encircling arms, and, not 
to give him time for surprise, she said, thoughtlessly : 

“ That will do ! I will go and call on your Emma soon now.” 

“ Will you, dearest child? and when? to-morrow?” 

u Yes, yes,” she replied, while her lovely face grew crim- 
son ; and, as if to take revenge on her heart, she added : 

“ And then I will aid you in every thing. You can see 


52 


HELOISE. 


her in my room as often and as long as you wish, until all 
obstacles are removed, and you — ” 

Here Felix, overjoyed, quickly caught her in his arms, 
and before the struggling girl could prevent it, he pressed his 
lips to hers. She freed herself, rather displeased, and said, with 
a forced laugh, “ Really, you have turned lover so completely, 
that you seem to forget that you are something besides.” 

Before he could answer her, Madame von Pollwitz ap- 
proached them. They went to dinner, and spoke of common- 
place things. The meal passed quite pleasantly. Felix had a 
good deal to say about England, where, as we have seen, he had 
lately been, and Heloise’s mind was diverted. After dinner, 
Felix had to return to his business. Madame von Pollwitz pro- 
posed that Heloise should go with her to see her daughter, but 
before they could put this plan into execution, two of her 
friends, elderly ladies, called, and staid the whole evening. 
The whist table was produced, and Heloise, who at least knew 
the cards, was obliged, from politeness, to make the fourth, 
and bore the frequent corrections of her companions with in- 
exhaustible patience. 

We do not, however, intend to weary our kind readers by 
following Heloise, step by step, as we have until now, through 
a life to which the heart only gave importance. So far, de- 
tails were necessary, and perhaps some prolixity excusable, 
because the events which we have related, in themselves quite 
unimportant, composed the foundation of the whole structure 
of sorrows, misunderstandings, and griefs, into which her life, 
for some time to come, was to form itself. We must, however, 
crave the indulgence of our readers for one more morning, 
during which she made two visits ; of which the one, to Em- 
ma, was exceedingly interesting to her, as it brought her 
in contact with a person who had had the most important influ- 
ence on her destiny — and the other gave her the first agreeable 
impression which she had enjoyed since she arrived at her 


HELOISE. 


53 


new abode, by making her better acquainted with the young 
Baroness Starnberg. 

Madame yon Pollwitz intended to accompany her to the 
latter place, but was kept at home by a cold, and therefore 
requested her to go alone — her servant should show her the 
way. Heloise concluded to go, though rather reluctantly ; 
for although the lady had, on the whole, pleased her very 
well, yet the extreme ease of her manner, the superiority in 
the tone of her conversation — all this had awed the young 
girl a little. 

From the house of the baroness she was to proceed di- 
rectly — so she had agreed with Felix — to that of Emma, 
which was very near, and which he had described to her. 
With a beating heart she made her preparations for this ex- 
pedition. Her mourning, which she had not yet left off, saved 
her the trouble of an elaborate toilet; still she remained 
longer than usual before the glass, and, to her shame, caught 
herself thinking that she should like Emma to see her rival 
to the best advantage, when the latter could not possibly sus- 
pect that she, who introduced herself to her as her friend’s 
sister, was not at heart what she represented herself to be. 


CHAPTER V. 


TWO VISITS. 

A maid opened the door when onr heroine arrived at Isabella’s, 
and it seemed as if she had been interrupted in some impor- 
tant business, for when Heloise requested her to announce 
her, she told her to go through all the rooms — she would find 
Madame in the last one. Heloise, therefore, not quite free from 
timidity, passed through a row of elegant apartments, until 
she stood before a door which was ajar, and behind which she 
heard the tender voices of children. Upon her knocking 
gently, Isabella herself came to the door. She hardly recog- 
nized in her the fashionable lady of the other evening. In a 
simple, though tasteful loose-dress, with a plain morning cap, 
she was not half as beautiful, as youthful ; and yet there was 
a nameless charm in her countenance — a look full of soul, 
which won the heart much quicker than all the brilliancy 
which paint, dress, and candle-light could bestow. She wel- 
comed Heloise with the most fascinating smile, and said, 
jestingly: 

“ Ah ! you penetrate even into my holy of holies ! But na- 
ture consecrated your feet at your birth, and one needs to 
have seen you but once, to know that you are a lorn priestess, 
not only of the beautiful, but also of the good.” 

“ I would think,” replied Heloise, with a smile, u that I 
ought to beg pardon for my boldness, did not the result show 
me that I have not done wrong ; for a crime would not be 
rewarded by so charming a sight as that of a mother in the 
midst of her children.” 


HELOISE. 


55 


With these words she directed an affectionate glance 
towards the three little girls, who, all dressed alike in pink 
gingham, and seated in a circle on low footstools, were occu- 
pied with their work, and eyed her with modest curiosity. 

“A very wrong conclusion, my dear,” said Isabella, at 
the same time divesting her guest of hat and cloak, “ and 
more sophism than I would have expected from a country 
girl of nineteen. But we will speak of that another time. 
For the present you will sit with me a while; and you, dear 
little ones, welcome this pretty aunt, and then take your 
work and finish it in the next room.” 

“ Am I to break this lovely circle, my dear baroness ?” 
said Heloise in a tone of regret ; “ Pray let me enjoy the 
presence of these dear children.” 

“ May not their mother claim some privilege ?” inquired 
Isabella. u I hope to have you here often — and then you can 
see as much as you want of these little chatterboxes; but 
to-day you belong to me.” 

The two elder of the little girls, of which the one seemed 
not much over six, and the other five years old, took their 
knitting and went to the adjoining bedroom. The smallest, 
a beautiful child of about three, who also had a task to per- 
form — that of pulling a fine rag into shreds, for lint — followed 
her sisters reluctantly, and not without having begged a kiss 
from her mother and granted one to Heloise. Soon after, 
our friends heard their prattle and laughter through the half- 
open door. True politeness — and such it was that Isabella 
possessed — has always something of cordiality in it. Beal 
politeness desires to please, to awaken agreeable sensations, 
and, by flattering attention, to put the individual towards 
whom it is practised, in a pleasant mood ; and this it cannot 
accomplish without appearing to feel some affection, some 
interest. Isabella, as we have already said, was an adept in 
this rare art, and had often practised it to her advantage ; 


56 


HELOISE. 


but the confidence with which Heloise, from the first moment 
of their acquaintance, had inspired her, by the innocent 
expression of her large eyes as well as by her childlike, 
modest mien — which, in connection with the natural dignity 
that characterized all her motions, was particularly pleasing — 
pity for her lonely situation, and admiration of her beauty, 
all these caused her not only to practise her art to-day 
without bestowing one thought on the effect, but to mingle 
with it a sincerity which most people at least, wrongly think 
incompatible with refinement. Our young friend found 
herself, before she knew it, drawn into a familiar conversa- 
tion with her, felt herself induced to speak of the happy days 
of her childhood, and did not repress the tears which memory 
called up, in presence of her friend. Isabella listened to her 
with deep emotion and sympathy, and said : 

“ I envy you these precious recollections — you have in 
them a treasure for your whole life. Whoever has once been 
very happy, and that long enough to have become conscious 
of it, has a powerful consolation when sorrow and misfortune 
assail him ; and there is no stronger shield against the despair 
which we feel at the thought that we shall never be happy 
again — that we have lost the faculty of being so, than the 
consciousness of having been so at least once in our life, 
and of not having borne the cares and burdens of our exist- 
ence entirely in vain.” 

“ Surely,” said Heloise, “ we do not bear them in vain.” 

“ My dear friend,” interrupted Isabella, “ pray leave par- 
adise out of the game ! I find nothing more arrogant than 
that we mortals count upon being rewarded in the other 
world. For what? Perhaps for the sacrifices which we were 
forced to make here below? Forced by circumstances, by 
our weakness, our folly ? Confess, yourself, how seldom we 
renounce what pleases us, of our own accord ; how few sacrifices 
we make unless we are obliged to do so. As regards the 


HELOISE. 


57 


recompense for these involuntary sacrifices, that we must en- 
deavor to attain in this world — if we wish a recompense for 
them. Do these words offend your piety? Well, it is just 
my piety that cannot brook the idea that Giod owes us any 
thing.” 

“I suppose,” said Heloise, “that we might make our 
views accord, but it would lead us too far. You speak the 
language of one that is happy — ” 

Isabella interrupted her, and said hastily, and not with- 
out sadness, “ Do you really think me so happy ?” 

“ I should think,” replied Heloise, in a tone of warm 
interest, “ that the mother of such lovely children could, at 
least, not be unhappy .” 

“You are right,” answered Isabella, seriously; “I am 
a happy mother, and once, too, I was happy as a wife, as a 
human being. But it was only a flash of lightning, and those, 
you know, make the black night blacker yet. But the birth 
of my eldest child was the dawn which drives night away. 
Since then it has been day ; and if, sometimes, dark clouds 
gather in the sky, yet they do not altogether hide the sun, 
which, beaming from my sweet children’s eyes, warms my 
heart.” 

Isabella brushed away a tear as she spoke these words. 
Her eyes met those of Heloise, which were fixed on her with 
an expression of deep and warm affection. They sat hand in 
hand, and in silence, for some time. Isabella was the first to 
compose herself, and asked, turning the subject: 

“ Have you seen your brother already, to-day ?” 

“ He was with me this morning.” 

“ Waldeck spoke of you to me with enthusiasm. You 
are a brother and sister as are rarely met with. He loves 
and admires you, and your affection for him, is, I am con- 
vinced, no less tender, and much more disinterested, [t is a 
pity that this fond tie is in danger of being broken.” 

3 * 


58 


HELOISE. 


u What danger do you mean ?” inquired Heloise, with a 
heating heart. 

« Do you really not know ? And ought I to anticipate his 
confidence ?” 

u I think I know what you refer to. But must love 
necessarily destroy the most natural sensations of the 
heart?” 

“ If a noble love endangers them — as is doubtless the case, 
because love is a feeling so despotic that it lays claim to the 
whole, undivided heart — how much more must the affection 
for a worthless object, who finds in this supreme power an 
ignoble triumph, be injurious to them? Yes, my good girl, 
your brother has fallen into the snares of a little coquette, 
from which, I fear, you have come too late to extricate him. 
The only means of opening his eyes will be to let her quietly 
become his wife.” 

u It would be a cruel remedy,” said Heloise ; “ but, as I 
hear, Emma is already engaged to another.” 

“ I hardly think that match will ever be made,” replied 
Isabella, while a faint color rose in her cheeks ; “ this other 
is sharp-sighted, and not as inexperienced as your brother. 
He will soon see how matters stand. And yet — who knows ?” 
she continued, growing unconsciously more and more animat- 
ed, “ in this point all men are alike ! One is really in danger 
of losing every trace of respect for them, when one has daily 
to witness how the most sensible, however correctly they may 
measure woman’s worth in general, when individual merit is 
to be estimated, follow only the judgment which egotism, 
vanity, or sensuality forms in them. A girl with only a tol- 
erable degree of shrewdness can present herself in whatever 
light she pleases, to the wisest of men, if she but call these 
allies to her aid ; and this Emma knows the men well, and is 
an adept in all the little arts by which they are to be en- 
chained.” 


HELOISE. 


59 


Although there was something in Isabella’s words which 
flattered Heloise, yet the zeal and severity with which they 
were spoken made her a little suspicious, and she remember- 
ed that Felix had called the baroness one of Emma’s ene- 
mies, and what he had said of her connection with the bride- 
groom of the latter ; she therefore asked, rather doubtfully : 

“ But do you know Emma so well ? Is she really so 
spoilt ?” 

“ She is not bad, but she is selfish, passionate, very 
wrongly educated, and vain to an infinite degree. I know 
her perfectly well. Particular circumstances directed my 
attention to her long ago. I watched her closely. But one 
needs no remarkable degree of penetration to see through 
her. For she has not that universal coquetry, that would 
conquer both sexes and all ages ; this requires a certain de- 
gree of calculation, of self-control, for which Emma is not 
quite cold enough : she aims her darts only at the men, and 
therefore women easily penetrate her. But only at young 
men ; the older ones she finds tiresome. To be the belle at 
all parties, to hear a serenade under her window every other 
evening, to occasion a few duels by capriciously refusing to 
dance with one or another — this is her ambition ; I doubt 
whether her thoughts rise any higher. In short, she is a 
common coquette.” 

“ Oh ! what do you tell me !” cried Heloise, with a deep 
sigh — “ my brother at the feet of so unworthy an object ! 
What incomprehensible blindness ! Oh ! you know not with 
what cares you load my heart !” 

“ It would have been cruel in me to have told you this, had 
I not known that you must discover it sooner or later. You 
have been educated in the country ; nevertheless, you will 
soon read her character, for that is an art which we women 
are born to practise.” 

“ But she must have some qualities that can attract men 


60 


HELOISE. 


of noble mind. I know Felix — I have known him from his 
childhood ; he is free from all baseness, all impurity. — Ah ! 
do not smile ! You pain me !” 

“ My dear child !” replied Isabella, “ your brother may 
be as pure, as excellent as he can be : he is a man — that ex- 
plains much 5 then he is an enthusiast — that explains still 
more. He probably saw her first in some touching situation ; 
perhaps in church, where she has to go every Sunday, in obe- 
dience to her grandparents’ command — for they are very 
orthodox, particularly the old lady. He saw her raising her 
large black eyes to heaven. We others look down, when we 
follow, in church, the prayer of the minister ; but she — she 
has a truly Catholic devotion — though she was educated as a 
Calvinist — and can act the nun to perfection.” 

u Is she not very beautiful ?” asked Heloise, timidly. 

u Not exactly. She has one of those faces which super- 
ficial judges call interesting, but which are, in reality, only 
piquant , striking. Eyes full of fire and life, but without soul ; 
a little nose, saucy and pretty, but not noble ; full and swell- 
ing lips, such as can be found on no antique, and which seem 
to belong to a Hutch beauty, but are continually parted in a 
smile, showing teeth of a whiteness so dazzling as to be al- 
most painful ; delicate and moveable features, but without 
regularity ; a slender waist, which, however, shows plainly 
that it owes its remarkably small size in part to the corset 
and the contrast of stiff skirts : in short, more stylish-looking 
than handsome.” 

“ You are an excellent painter,” replied Heloise, who, 
hardly herself aware of it, rejoiced in secret that Emma was 
' not more beautiful. “ Doubtless,” she added, “ she is so 
amiable, that any thing that is wanting to her beauty is not 
missed.” 

“ That is a matter of taste. She has the most ordinary 
intellect — but a kind of shrewdness which supplies many a 


HELOISE. 


61 


deficiency. Instead of a cultivated mind she possesses a few 
talents, instead of wit, vivacity and assurance, and instead 
of information, true womanly ignorance. You may laugh, as 
much as you like, but believe me, a woman’s lips appear 
twice as beautiful to a man when they ask information as 
when they i?npart it. No expression of countenance is so 
charming as the innocent one of a pupil — Emma is aware of 
this, and she knows much more than she wants to.” 

“ My heart is troubled,” said Heloise, anxiously: “how 
embarrassed I shall be in the presence of such an artificial 
being ! But perhaps she is more natural towards those of 
her own sex.” 

“ On the whole, she is. But she will not be so to you. See 
if she does not throw herself into your arms, and entreat 
you, with a thousand tears, to grant her your friendship. 
But she is false. She can never love you. For in the first 
place you are more beautiful, more intelligent, and better 
than she, and then you still occupy a place in Felix’s heart, 
over which she would reign supreme.” 

“ Oh ! do not flatter me,” cried Heloise with painful emotion ; 
“ that Felix has forgotten me for her, is proof enough that she 
must be infinitely more beautiful and more amiable than I !” 

Isabella looked at her in surprise, while Heloise’s face 
was suffused with blushes. 

“ My dear friend !” said the former, “ what are you 
thinking of? Did ever the brother of a handsome sister, 
from gratitude towards nature, renounce the pleasure of 
looking out for a lady-love? Were you born in Utopia, 
where men are perhaps satisfied with aesthetic delight ?” 

“ My God !” cried Heloise, “ but she is unworthy of him. 
As his sister, as his best friend, I owe it to him to do all 
that is in my power, that this unfortunate connection may be 
dissolved ! What shall I do ? What do you advise me 2 
I beg of you — !” 

- 


62 


HEL01SE. 


u Do you intend to involve me in a conspiracy, child ? 
Listen — to be frank, I must tell you that the interest of my 
heart would rather he to promote this marriage instead of 
preventing it. However, I believe I am too honest not to find 
it vexatious that the happiness, and perhaps the morality of 
so fine a fellow as Felix, should he sported with by a heart- 
less girl. For there is nothing more ruinous for a young 
man, than a passion for an unworthy object, particularly if 
it is his first love, as seems to be the case here. It gives 
him at the most some happy moments, but it robs him of all 
peace of mind, by putting him at variance with his prin- 
ciples; it degrades him, by lowering in his eyes a sex, to 
honor which is man’s pride, and constitutes a great part of 
his worth. And then too, I dislike this Emma too much, not 
to grudge her such an advantageous match. If we could 
only find some other girl for Felix. Feelings can only be 
acted upon by other feelings — and the physician who would 
perform a happy cure on such patients, must, above all others, 
make use of the homoeopathic treatment.” 

“ One thing more,” said Heloise, “ do you believe that 
Emma really has any affection for my brother? Is such a 
heart capable of loving ?” 

“ It loves after its own fashion,” replied Isabella. u Felix 
is handsome, brave, rich, blindly in love — reasons enough for 
making him a desirable match for Emma. Still, her cousin 
possesses equal attractions.” 

“Well then — ” inquired Heloise. 

“ She wishes to act a romance, that is all, for the present,” 
answered Isabella. “ I do not believe that she has decided 
upon any course yet.” 

Heloise soon after this took leave of her friend, and pro- 
ceeded to Emma’s house. Every step increased the trouble 
of her mind. Still she was, on the whole, less agitated than 
in the morning, and during the preceding day. We hardly 


HELOISE. 


63 


dare to decide whether it was the satisfaction of knowing 
that her rival was so far beneath her, that had done the 
greater part towards calming her, or whether it was the sooth- 
ing consciousness of having found one friendly being, who* 
had delivered her from the misery of total isolation. Pro- 
bably both had considerable effect on her, and when she 
arrived at Emma’s, she was at least outwardly composed. 

It is not without trepidation that we undertake to give 
the reader an account of a meeting which left, in both par- 
ties, such mixed impressions, that we fear to lose ourselves 
in a labyrinth of contradicting feelings, which, however, 
dwell only too near each other in the human heart. 

What Emma, such as she appears to us from Isabella’s 
description — which, we find, delineates so well her character- 
istic traits, that we do not venture to make any addition, 
but leave the farther development of her disposition to the 
progress of our story — what Emma must have felt at the 
sight of a woman who not only surpassed her in beauty, but 
whom she also had reason to fear as a close observer, we 
must leave the intelligent reader to conjecture. Neverthe- 
less, the unassuming modesty of Heloise, which amounted 
almost to timidity, the gentle sadness of her demeanor, 
would perhaps have captivated even Emma, had it been pos- 
sible for her to believe that these were not put on with the 
view of pleasing. We are not only particularly expert in 
discovering our own faults in others, but we are also very apt 
to take their existence for granted. The ambitiously vain, 
who think much of worldly show, find it difficult to believe 
in the truth of another’s philosophy, who professes to despise 
these things. The reserved easily doubt the sincerity of 
their acquaintances, the envious see jealousy in all the 
world; and particularly, every thing artificial in our own 
behavior makes us suspicious of the artlessness of others. 
For this reason hypocrites never believe in truthfulness, nor 


64 


HELOISE. 


coquettes either in that womanly pride which scorns to 
solicit the approbation of the other sex, or in that childlike 
simplicity which never bestows a thought on such approba- 
tion. 

It did not enter Emma’s mind, that so superior a girl 
as Heloise could be unconscious of her endowments, and 
still less, that she did not intend to take advantage of these 
endowments to the best of her abilities. She did not know, 
therefore, whether she should think her very shrewd or very 
simple , and was more and more inclined to decide for the 
latter, as she remarked her increasing embarrassment. 

The thoughts that were passing through Heloise’s mind, 
during this time, were of a very different nature. If Isa- 
bella had raised her courage a little, Emma’s fashionable and 
brilliant appearance now startled her all the more. The 
grace, ease, and confidence of her manner, dazzled and bewil- 
dered the poor girl. She had never dreamt that any one 
could be so selfish, and at the same time so fascinating. 
She found Emma a thousand times more charming, a thou- 
sand times more beautiful than herself. Isabella was right, 
it is true, in saying that Emma’s was no regular beauty, but 
for all that, Heloise discovered in her at the second and third 
glances, charms which the baroness had left entirely unmen- 
tioned : small, delicate hands, the prettiest little foot, a mass 
of glossy curls, and all shown off, by tasteful art, to the best 
advantage. 

11 How could I venture to compare myself with her? how 
could I have the audacity to wish to supplant her ?” she 
thought — and her own lovely image stood before her mind, 
distorted even to ugliness. Her courage sank more and 
more — she grew more and more reserved and silent, said the 
most commonplace things hesitatingly, and those only in 
answer to questions asked her by Emma and her grand- 
mother. 


HELOISE. 


65 


Her embarrassment, however, became still more painful, 
when the latter was called away by business, and she found 
herself alone with Emma. She felt that she ought to speak 
of Felix — that she could not reasonably expect her compa- 
nion to commence a confidential conversation. She felt that 
she ought to assure her of her friendship — of her aid, if she 
did not want Emma to think that she was against her. She 
had to invite her to visit her — to speak of her brother’s hope 
of meeting them together — what would Felix, what would 
Emma think, if she did not ? — and yet — how did her noble 
heart revolt against such falseness ; and how unnatural would 
this step have been to her — how little would she have been 
inclined to encourage Felix’s love, even if she had really been 
his sister ! For imperceptibly, the more she was dazzled by 
Emma’s exterior, the lower did the opinion which she had 
formed of her interior, fall. There was a want of cordiality, 
of kindness, of true politeness, in her, and notwithstanding 
the ease of her manner, it lacked that harmony which only 
soul can give. Even as a sister, therefore, Emma would not 
have pleaseH her ; but, suspicious as to the source of this 
feeling, she called it, with much shame, envy, and thought it 
her duty to defy it. That Heloise did not experience this 
struggle with the clearness with which we have here describ- 
ed it, is hardly necessary to explain. Obscure, painful sen- 
sations passed confusedly through her bosom, during several 
minutes, while Emma fixed her eyes on the ground in some 
embarrassment, and played with her rings. At length He- 
loise managed to say, with considerable hesitation: 

“ My brother, Mademoiselle — I hope we shall — I shall 
have the happiness to see more — often — ” 

Emma turned her eyes towards her with a searching 
glance. Irritated by this, Heloise continued, with more con- 
fidence : 


66 


HELOISE. 


u My brother has told me how dear you are to him, and 
I hope you will not refuse a sister’s friendship.” 

u Your friendship,” replied Emma, with an expression of 
much feeling, while she took Heloise’s hand and pressed it, 
u your approbation, are invaluable to me, and I shall do every 
thing to deserve them.” 

Heloise returned the pressure, and not without emotion. 
She felt at this moment almost contemptible beside Emma, and 
the thought that she had perhaps wronged her, made her show, 
during their short conversation, a warmth which was not in 
her heart. Emma spoke of her passion for Felix with a frank- 
ness and a strength of expression which several times called 
up a blush in Heloise’s cheek. She complained bitterly of 
her situation, and appeared to have a very unfavorable idea 
of her absent betrothed. She hoped, however, that his re- 
turn might be yet postponed awhile. When old Madame von 
Willingen returned, Heloise took her leave, secretly rejoicing 
at the interruption ; for she had just thought it her duty to 
inform Emma of Felix’s wish that they should often meet in 
her apartments. As it was, they parted without having made 
any agreement. 


CHAPTER VI. 


HELOISE REGAINS HER COMPOSURE. 

Several weeks passed quickly away. It could not be other- 
wise than that the many new objects which the capital pre- 
sented to Heloise, excited her interest to some degree, and 
that, among the great number of acquaintances which she 
made, there were some that pleased her. Neither could 
these impressions fail to produce a favorable effect. Her 
heart recovered by degrees from the severe blows which had 
bowed it down. Far from being happy, she yet learnt to 
acquire inward as well as outward calmness. She regained 
that quiet dignity, that nobleness of demeanor, which, even 
in the highest circles, makes the absence of a more worldly 
refinement and ease of manner, unfelt. Madame von Pollwitz, 
who at first thought the behavior of her young protege very 
strange, was more and more attracted by the childlike amia- 
bility of her disposition ; all the older ladies found her charm- 
ing, the best of the younger ones felt themselves drawn 
towards her, and even among the worse ones there were few 
who grudged her endowments of which she herself was hardly 
conscious, and which seemed to awe the men rather than at- 
tract them ; for, notwithstanding her extraordinary beauty 
and the kind affability of her manner, the other sex paid her 
more deference than homage. All treated her with respect 
and distinction, but none paid his court to her. While other 
girls, who possessed hardly the hundredth part of her charms 


68 


HELOISE. 


and her mind, surrounded by admirers, were amusing them- 
selves and those near them, Heloise was perhaps enter- 
tained by one only, or conversing with some other less noticed 
girl, and, wonderful to relate, often even with the older ladies. 
The reason for this was partly that she inspired the young 
leaders of the ton with too much esteem, for them to hope that 
empty flatteries would be agreeable to her ; partly that her 
noble deportment and quiet modesty rendered difficult any 
uncalled-for approach. Society, such as it is, admits only 
of small-talk: whoever lays open to it deep feelings and 
thoughts, exposes himself to ridicule. Heloise had too much 
tact not to see this, but she had neither skill nor uncharita- 
bleness enough to give spice to the commonplace discourse 
on every-day affairs, by interspersing it with scandal ; then, 
too, she knew too little of the characters, and was, besides, 
too much occupied with her own inward self, to experience a 
great desire to become better acquainted with them from such 
conversation. At larger assemblies, therefore, she was usu- 
ally silent and reserved, and talkative, lively, and entertain- 
ing only in the domestic circle. A young girl like Heloise 
is more qualified to excite warm feelings ,. than to elicit that 
homage which alone enables her to shine in society. 

Thus Emma need not have feared a rival in the beautiful 
stranger — at least not where the approbation of the other sex 
in general was concerned. She did not deprive her of any 
of her admirers, although there was hardly one of their num- 
ber who, in his heart, did not place Heloise far above Emma. 
Notwithstanding this, the latter did not seem in the least in- 
clined to attach herself to the sister of her lover, and Felix 
tried in vain to bring about the wished-for interviews. He- 
loise did not refuse to do her part in them, and once even 
conquered her feelings so far as to remind Felix, when he was 
complaining of seeing Emma so rarely alone, of his plan of 
meeting her in her apartment. But it was Emma herself 


HELOISE. 


69 


who always contrived skilfully to prevent these meetings, to 
avoid any agreement with regard to them, or to find means 
not to keep her appointments. Heloise could not determine 
what to think of this, hut she could not contradict Isabella 
when she said : 

“ She fears your moral dignity. She is well aware that 
you would make use of other arts to charm a lover, than she 
could show you.” 

They met from time to time, however, at .the houses of 
mutual acquaintances. They were always very polite and 
attentive towards each other, but kept far apart, which, on 
account of the different positions which they occupied in 
society, was not difficult. 

The part which Heloise had to play towards Felix, was 
far more difficult. He visited her daily, and the principal 
topic of his conversation was always Emma. However pain- 
ful this was to our young friend, she could at least see from 
this circumstance, that she played her part naturally — that 
she had succeeded in hiding the sensations of her heart from 
Felix. Her manner towards him was, indeed, on the whole, 
uniformly calm and kind. She was not cheerful, not com- 
municative, when alone with him, but the great loss which 
she had lately experienced, justified this sadness, and he knew 
the uncommon strength and depth of her feelings. They 
had at first had some difficulty with regard to her not wishing 
to allow any personal demonstrations of his brotherly affection, 
but he had at last to be satisfied with the declaration u that ca- 
resses and tender trifling were entirely incompatible with 
the serious character of fraternal friendship — that they were 
only fit for lovers or children, and very unbecoming to grown 
people.” 

It could not escape Felix’s observation that Heloise was 
not entirely satisfied with his choice — if his passion for 
Emma could be called a choice — although she spoke much 


70 


HELOISE. 


of Emma’s charms, and praised them highly, when, after 
her first call, he asked her opinion. But although he had, 
from his childhood, been accustomed to attach much conse- 
quence to his sister’s judgment, and, indeed, to take her as 
his example in all his actions, yet in this case her disapproba- 
tion only pained him, without turning him from his course. 

“ They were not made for each other,” he said to himself 
by way of excuse — “ they will grow more intimate by and 
by.” For the present he was very well satisfied that Heloise 
did not openly express her opinion. As soon as he perceived 
that his sister was not favorably inclined towards Emma, he was 
careful not to say any thing about the character of the latter 
to Heloise, a circumstance from which we can infer that he 
was less deceived than he seemed, but that he wished to de- 
ceive himself, in the persuasion that love had deprived him of 
the power of following his better judgment. 

Thus it was unavoidable that the mutual confidence of the 
brother and sister was by degrees diminished, and that when 
they met, they were often out of humor and taciturn. He- 
loise observed this with much pain. My readers will perhaps 
find her conduct inconsistent with the honesty which we 
praised in her, and find it difficult to believe that, with so 
much frankness, she could practise dissimulation longer than 
a few hours. But be it remembered that injured love, as 
well as mortified pride, came to her assistance, and that, with 
the greatest simplicity, a woman can find, in the peculiarities 
of her sex, and in its position in society — which, in her, admits 
of a decidedly negative demeanor — means enough to conceal an 
unrequited affection, whenever such is her serious intention. 
We must farther consider that Felix had not the slightest 
suspicion of the reason of some things in her behavior which 
certainly struck him as very strange sometimes — words which 
escaped her, or expressions of her countenance which she did 
not control sufficiently — and which he, occupied with other 


HELOISE. 


71 


things, often hardly noticed, or interpreted to suit himself. 
For Heloise this state of things was exceedingly oppressive. 
She was constantly debating with herself ; “ I will be his 
sister, and no more !” she often cried, and thought to herself 
what she should do, if it were really so. She would speak 
to him freely of Emma, she would seek and find the means 
of revealing to him all her unworthiness. Did she not see 
so plainly, that, even now already, this love did not bring him 
any real happiness? Some hours of rapture, hut no cheerful 
days — a momentary taste of bliss, hut no lasting contentment. 
How would it he in future ? 

“ Oh, that I were his sister !” she said with a sigh, and 
blushed to think that she desired more than fraternal affection 
from him. “And can I not at least act as his sister?” she 
asked herself. But the thought that she could not much 
longer conceal her secret from him, and how quickly he would 
then conjecture the motives which, partly at least, actuated 
her in opposing his connection with Emma — that perhaps, 
in spite of all her pains, his heart might still he for Emma — 
the humiliating idea, that then all the incautious words and 
actions which he now overlooked, would be easily understood 
by him — to see herself lowered so far as to become the object 
of his pity — of Emma’s derision — 

She shuddered : “No, no !” she cried ; “ before I can say to 
him without hesitation, without a blush : ‘ Felix, I am not 
your sister ; our parents destined me for your wife, but I 
love you only with a sister’s love’ — before I can tell him this, 
he shall not learn my secret. The time will come, once. — 
And then I will seek my father — to him I will go, to a 
strange land. Oh ! he too has been unhappy — he will under- 
stand me. ! And I shall at least have the happiness to weep 
out my poor life on the only bosom which beats for me, in 
this wide, desolate world !” 

Heloise did not confess to herself that one hope still 


72 


HELOISE. 


lived in her heart, which held her chained near her beloved ; 
it whispered to her, with flattering voice, that he would, that 
he must return to her with redoubled affection — that love 
which was not founded on esteem could not last. But how 
was he to learn that the object of his affection did not merit his 
esteem ? An obscure feeling always referred her to Emma’s 
destined husband, when she asked herself this question, and 
thus she looked forward to the arrival of Baron Angern — for 
so he was called — with all the anxiety, and yet with all the 
impatience with which we see a decisive moment draw near. 

Meanwhile she gave way to the pain which her disap- 
pointment had caused her, as little as was compatible with 
the strength of this feeling. She had taken a great part of the 
household duties off the hands of Madame von Pollwitz ; she 
read much, occupied herself with fine needlework, and eagerly 
took advantage of the opportunities which her present place 
of residence offered her, to perfect herself in the fine arts. 

In music she had already acquired great proficiency under 
the direction of her tutor, who was fortunately a skilful 
pianist and a thorough musician. A distinguished music- 
master and constant practice improved her so much, in the 
course of the winter, that she acquired the name of one of 
the best amateur performers in the city. She had always 
loved the art for its own sake ; but we will not answer for it, 
that the fact that Emma had the reputation of being a bril- 
liant singer, did not increase her present zeal. Her own 
voice was clear and sweet, but of ordinary compass, and 
could not compare in power and richness with Emma’s, which 
had for years been cultivated by the best instruction. She 
sang her little simple airs with such feeling, so much sweet- 
ness, as to enchant a small circle of listeners, but she could 
not think of trying to rival Emma in the brilliant Italian 
Arias with which she shone in company. Perhaps this was 


HELOISE. 


73 


the principal reason why, hardly conscious of her motive, she 
preferred to perfect herself in instrumental music. Perhaps, 
we say, for the human heart is so strangely formed, that the 
good and the evil, the pure and the impure, are continually 
changing places in it. The greatest pleasure, however, which 
Heloise had, was her intercourse with Isabella ; it made her 
partly forget her sorrows, cultivated her mind, and did her 
heart good. 


4 


CHAPTER VII. 


ISABELLA. 

At length, one morning, Felix announced to Heloise, not 
without emotion, that Angern had arrived. He had been 
expected daily for nearly a week past, as he had recently 
written to the colonel, and had told him in general terms that 
he would be with them soon. In honor of his arrival there 
was to be a large party at Colonel Willingen’s house on this 
same evening ; the first which had been given there for many 
years. Immediately upon receipt of the letter preparations for 
it had been commenced, and the invitations given out for the 
latest day on which he could be expected. Felix and Heloise 
were also asked. Both looked forward to the evening with 
uneasiness. Felix had hardly gone, before Heloise hastened 
to her friend. 

She found her in an excitement, such as she had never 
witnessed in her before. The tone of her voice was unusually 
soft — a lovely, natural color was in her cheeks, and tears in 
her eyes. 

“He has just gone,” she said, embracing Heloise. “Yes, 
deares f child, he will always be to my heart the dearest 
friend. She must not possess 'him, this miserable Emma ! 
You alone, my own sweet Heloise, you alone are worthy of 
him, and you must and shall be his !” 

Heloise’s consternation at her friend’s words was mingled 
with displeasure. 

“ Do not be angry, dear heart,” the other continued ; “ my 
heart is so softened that I would say more than I can ex 


HELOISE. 


75 


press in words. Yes, I still love him— that is, I wish to see 
him happy. For seven long years I have not seen him. He 
is changed since then, and yet so much the same. He is just 
as amiable, as energetic, as manly, as before we parted. His 
ideal is the very highest; instead of Isabella he now loves the 
people — all mankind !” 

“ You surprise me to the utmost,” said Heloise, at last ; 
“ you never betrayed your heart to me !” 

“ Will you now, dearest Heloise, hear the history of this 
poor heart ? — many a time I was about to confide it to you, 
but it seemed to me as if I feared your childlike purity. 
But at this moment, my Heloise, in this hour, I feel that I 
am good : I was never bad, only misguided, and now I am 
good, good like you, my Heloi-se.” 

She pressed her to her heart. Long they held each other 
in a close, fervent embrace, until at length, grown more calm, 
and quietly seated on the sofa, Isabella unfolded her noble 
heart to Heloise, who listened with ear and soul. 

“You know already,” she began, “that I was educated 
at a large boarding-school. I have often spoken of it to you. 
On the whole, I felt quite contented there. The glaring 
faults of our education did not mar our temporary happiness 
much. While our little heads were, rather negligently, filled 
with scraps of knowledge, our young hearts had free play. 
We had our friendships among ourselves, our love - intrigues 
with the brothers of our companions, with the cousins who 
were allowed to visit us now and then, or with the cadets and 
students who passed our windows, and always managed to 
meet us in our walks. We were kept very strict; no love- 
affair ever went farther than an interchange of looks and 
words. Our inward self remained entirely uncultivated, and 
indeed, unawakened ; no one thought of drawing it out. As 
in all such institutions, only the mass was considered, and the 
scale that was fit for that, was applied to each individual. 


76 


HELOISE. 


Thus there could he no lack of perverseness and injury. We 
were brought up, but remained undeveloped. 

“ In my seventeenth year I returned to my parent’s house. 
My father’s position made it necessary for him to live in con- 
siderable style. He was obliged often to invite the officers 
of his regiment — others were asked to meet them. My 
mother, of course, was not then the dignified old lady that 
she now is ; she still painted, played the propriety-parts in 
private theatricals, and an admirer, who remained at a re- 
spectful distance, was not unwelcome to her. Thus I found 
myself, from the beginning, drawn into a whirlpool of dissi- 
pation. No fashionable folly but what I took a part in it. 
There was no thought of serious reflection. The baron was 
one of the most brilliant men of our circle. Thirteen years 
younger, and, consequently, not the cold, hardened ego- 
tist that he now is, he was the leader of the fashion, oc- 
cupied an important station, and — was in love with me. 
When he offered himself to me, all my young friends envied 
me, my parents thought the match advantageous, and so I 
became his wife before I was twenty years old. 

“ The ideas with which I entered upon the married state, 
were gathered from novels, and consequently romantic 
enough. With regard to my husband, I had deceived myself 
— I can scarcely reproach him with deceiving me. I had 
hardly been married a few months, before he appeared to me 
in a totally different light. It seemed as if I had awakened 
from a dream. On the discovery of his numerous infide- 
lities, I passed through all the gradations of feeling of which 
a woman’s heart, while yet uncorrupted, is capable. The 
•first drove me to despair — the tenth left me indifferent. I 
was too proud to revenge myself by following his example ; 
and besides, I found none that pleased me among those who 
sought my favor, for you can well imagine, that a young wo- 
man in my situation, not ugly, and neglected by her husband, 


HELOISE. 


77 


was not without admirers. But my heart yearned for love. 
Years passed, and Heaven had not yet granted me the hap- 
piness of being a mother. My mind was but half developed, 
and, from ennui , I undertook to carry on some insignificant 
intrigues. My heart had no part in them, they only fed my 
fancy. How different, my Heloise, how very different was it 
when Angern appeared, and paid me attentions. My dear 
friend — you will soon know him : he has not the thousandth 
part of Felix’s beauty, but you never saw a nobler bearing, 
nor a more intellectual expression of countenance. He had 
seen much of the world, and knew the human heart and wo- 
man well. At first, I thought I only feared him, I did not 
know what it was, that made me, in his presence, timid, em- 
barrassed, and uneasy. His affection honored me — in order 
to be a fit companion for him, I read, I studied. His advice 
guided and controlled me. But soon, too soon, our relation 
grew too passionate, almost annihilating. Things could not 
remain as they were — he longed to possess me, and because 
he neither would nor could dishonor me, he urged a divorce — 
I consented ! 

“ Before this plan could be put into execution, Angern was 
obliged to make a journey, on some important business. In 
eight weeks he was to return, and, thinking that I might per- 
haps need his aid, we resolved to leave the disclosure of my 
sentiments until then. As, just at that time, I saw less of 
my husband than ever — for he was at the feet of a certain 
opera-singer, who occupied all of his time that he was not 
obliged to devote to his business — I hoped to have little diffi- 
culty in carrying my point. 

“ Heloise, I was never bad. I was naturally good and 
kind — love had ennobled me — I could have made the greatest 
sacrifices ; but I was not religious. I never thought of God. 
I believed in him, because I had heard him named from 
my childhood, but my soul did not feel his existence. Dear- 
3 * 


78 


HELOISE. 


est Heloise, I had been married six years ; now I felt that 
I was about to become a mother ! You gaze at me in as- 
tonishment, and now your cast-down eyes ask me how it is 
possible that it could be so, when another’s image was in 
my heart. You good, innocent child ! may you never expe- 
rience the constraint of a legality from which no wife can 
secretly withdraw entirely, before she is firmly resolved to do 
so publicly and for ever, and, in renouncing it, to renounce 
the world at the same time. No words can express what 
passed in my soul at this discovery. I had heard a thousand 
times that Glod punishes us to make us better ; that he puri- 
fies our hearts with the fire of affliction ; that he cleanses our 
sinful desires with the flood of our tears. This I knew, my 
Heloise ; but now, now I felt , and felt deeply, that He must 
be an inexpressibly kind Father, who by blessings warns us 
against doing evil ; who obstructs the gate to sin with his 
richest favors. Now my poor heart would have an object on 
which to bestow its love. As my husband, I despised the 
baron ; as the father of my child, I felt I must honor him. 
I was terrified at the thought of my former purpose, and 
when Angern returned he found me another being. 

“ I had a hard struggle — Angern was more passionate than 
ever ; but there was probably a feeling in him which at last 
made me conquer. We would be friends, inseparable, devoted 
friends, but never more. Angern declared himself able to play 
this part only at a distance, and still he could not leave. A 
lawsuit with Emma’s grandparents had brought him here and 
made his presence necessary. To free himself from these 
bonds, he resolved, at last, to enter into a contract by which 
he was betrothed to Emma, then a charming child of thirteen. 
The distance at which the period for the fulfilment of this en- 
gagement lay, made the much heavier bonds which he thereby 
subjected himself to, appear light to him. Of his heart he 
believed he was sure ; and he was right, for, even to-day, I 


HELOISE. 


79 


have had the assurance from his lips, that, since he tore him- 
self from me, he has never loved again. He traversed Eu- 
rope, Asia, went to America ; his heart is healed, and his mind 
has drunk in the world. 

“ As far as I am concerned, Heaven obviously blessed my 
sacrifice. Three children were granted me, in quick succes- 
sion — three girls , so that they could be wholly mine. Their 
love makes me happy, their education occupies me — my heart 
and my mind are satisfied !” 

Heloise was deeply moved. She pressed her friend’s 
hand fervently, and her lips expressed in affectionate words 
how entirely she agreed with such truly womanly sentiments, 
At length she inquired, “ Has Baron Angern seen Emma yet?” 

“ No : the first hours naturally belonged to his old friend; 
but he knows her already from my letters ; and even if that 
were not the case, one glance from this sharp-sighted man 
would be sufficient for him to see through her. But it may 
be that he will see through her and still be caught.” 

u Impossible !” was Heloise’s reply. 

“ The mere idea is insupportable to me. You, dear He- 
loise, you must win him — to you I will give him up, but to 
no one else !” 

It was in vain that Heloise protested against this idea. 
Isabella came back to it again and again, and all that her 
young friend could obtain from her was the promise that the 
subject should not be mentioned again. She then informed 
her that she had purposely not made mention of Emma’s 
affair with Felix, to Angern : u I will leave your brother,” she 
added, “ to do his part in it himself. The character of a 
tale-bearer would be beneath me, and it is not that, but only 
my criticism, which Emma has to fear in me ; for, although 
she perhaps prefers Felix, site will not disdain to make a con- 
quest of Angern ; of that your own eyes shall convince you 
this evening.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


ANGERN. 

It was late, and the rest of the company were already assem- 
bled, when Heloise entered the saloon of Colonel Willingen 
with Madame von Pollwitz. The latter had looked upon the 
invitation with some contempt, and expressed her doubts 
whether she had better go, but had at last willingly yielded to 
Heloise’s wishes, for she was curious to see how these two 
proud old people, who lived only for their own comfort, would 
fulfil the unwonted labor of giving a large and brilliant soirte. 

Heloise’s heart, on the contrary, beat high in expectation 
of this evening, as if it were to bring a final decision of her 
destiny. Was it the secret hope, which she was hardly con- 
scious of herself, that he to whom Emma was betrothed would 
not relinquish his claim on her? — did she think that his return 
would perhaps give occasion to convince Felix of Emma’s 
unworthiness, or that Emma herself might prefer Angern, and 
Felix return to her with renewed affection ? — dimly the thought 
floated before her mind, that her fate too depended on An- 
gern’s arrival. Who that could have noticed the particular 
care which, hardly aware of it herself, she bestowed upon her 
toilet, would not have concluded that she entered into the 
idea which Isabella had hinted at, and intended to make a 
conquest of him for herself? And yet nothing was more distant 
from her heart. But a low voice seemed to say to her that 
she would this evening be compared with Emma — that to- 
night, Felix would make a new choice. 


HELOISE. 


81 


She still remained faithful to the black dress, which flow- 
ed in heavy, rich, silken folds around her elegant form — for 
she had left off deep, but not yet half mourning — but a costly 
berthe of black blonde fell around the fashionably low neck 
of the dress, and showed off to the best advantage her grace- 
fully sloping shoulders, and her finely formed bust ; and the 
short sleeves, from which depended broad blonde trimmings, 
which, together with half-long white kid gloves, concealed but 
imperfectly the most beautiful arm that had ever been creat- 
ed — all these approached by some decided steps to the world 
and its pleasures. She made no opposition when Lisette, 
whose greatest joy it was to dress her charming young lady as 
becomingly as possible, placed a white rose in her hair, whose 
sole ornament, until now, had been its beautiful color — that 
which is usually termed cendre — and its massive richness. For 
the first time, too, since her mother’s death, she opened a 
little casket which she had bequeathed to her, which contain- 
ed, besides many rings, ear-rings, and other gay trinkets, two 
diamond breast-pins, small and plainly mounted, but the 
stones of such singular purity and beauty, that their value 
far exceeded that of all the rest of the jewelry in the casket. 
With one of these she secured her berthe , and with the other 
a black velvet ribbon around her neck. Heloise’s neck was of 
peculiar beauty : it was the neck of a queen, as indeed her 
whole appearance, in spite of all rural simplicity, had a de- 
cidedly noble air. 

When she came to the dressing room of Madame von 
Pollwitz, the old lady and her maid both could not find 
words enough to express their admiration ; for the excitement 
of the evening had given her cheeks a higher color than 
usual, and her eyes sparkled, as if not to be out-rivalled by 
the borrowed jewels. 

Nevertheless, she now entered the saloon quietly, and ob- 
served by few. A card table was ready for her companion, 
4 * 


82 


HELOISE. 


and she placed herself among the other young girls, who were 
seated in long rows along the back wall of the apartment. 

“We are sitting here as if we were at the theatre,” said 
Heloise’s neighbor, a bright, sprightly girl, after bidding her 
good evening ; “ the piece is called , c The little Coquette,’ and 
yonder is the stage.” Heloise’s eyes followed the direction of 
hers to the opposite side of the room, where Emma stood, 
conversing with a stranger. She was dressed with the utmost 
simplicity, in perfectly plain white muslin, and her glossy 
brown hair, with the exception of a couple of rose-buds, en- 
tirely without ornament. Heloise felt a little mortified when 
she thought of her own unusually careful toilet. Her innocent 
heart did not suspect that Emma’s simplicity was a thousand 
times more studied than her own scrupulous care. The little 
white figure looked right charming, her well formed contours 
standing out in relief against the dark window curtains, 
(which were let down and reached to the ground,) and looking 
upwards, with that innocent, inquiring expression in her face, 
that was so becoming to her. 

The figure of the stranger, whose noble bearing gave him 
the appearance of being taller than he was in reality, was 
also placed in the best light by the dark background. His 
features were well formed, without, however, being in the 
least handsome. A dark, piercing eye was all that distin- 
guished them. A certain condescending expression in his 
otherwise agreeable countenance, was hardly to be mistaken. 
Their conversation had already lasted the whole evening, 
and Emma’s stock of questions about the Rocky Mountains, 
the back-woods, and the Indians, seemed inexhaustible. 

Heloise’s eye glanced around the room in search of Felix. 
At length she discovered him in a distant corner. He was 
leaning over the piano, apparently absorbed in looking at 
some music ; but the violence with which he turned over the 
leaves, the convulsive haste with which he threw down one 


HELOISE. 


83 


book and snatched up another, but still more his glowing face, 
and the furious glances which he sent across the room 
from time to time, were proofs of the most vehement agita- 
tion. Heloise had already come to the conclusion that the 
stranger must be Angern, when Isabella, who had been 
walking up and down the room with an acquaintance, stopped 
before her and offered her her other arm. Heloise accepted 
it with joy. She suffered deeply, and felt inwardly grateful, 
when her friend, struck by her beauty, and agitated by vari- 
ous thoughts, fixed her eyes upon her with a look of deep 
affection. The look meant : 4 You, good, lovely one, are 

worthy of my giving him up to you !’ But Heloise did not 
understand it so — she saw in it only that love for which her 
heart was thirsting. 

Every trace of the morning’s agitation had disappeared 
from Isabella’s face. She was too much a woman of the 
world to give way to sentiment in mixed society. She calmly 
continued her conversation with her companion, but after they 
had taken a few turns in the saloon, she skilfully managed to 
direct their course to the corner of the room where Felix 
was standing, and whispered to Heloise, “ Speak to your 
brother, his behavior is too conspicuous.” At the same time 
she stopped — as if from interest in her conversation — with 
her back to Felix, let go of Heloise’s arm, and managed, 
with an adroitness peculiar to herself, to draw the gentle- 
man with whom she was talking, deeper and deeper into the 
subject. 

Heloise approached close to the young man ; “ Good 
evening, Felix,” she said, with a forced smile. 

Felix started: “So you have come at last! I had not- 
seen you yet — it is terribly hot here !” 

Heloise’s heart beat quicker : “ Then he has at least missed 
me,” she thought. “What is the matter, Felix?” she asked 
in a low voice, and, moved with the deepest pity for him, looked 


84 


HELOISE. 


into his eyes once more, for the first time in many days, 
with her old, earnest expression of fervent affection. 

u I entreat you, Heloise,” he said, in a voice which sup- 
pressed passion made unnaturally hoarse, “ do not drive me 
to distraction ! all is over ! You are right — you all are right ! 
Leave me alone now !” 

“ Who is right ?” asked Heloise in alarm — hut Felix, with- 
out answering her, was about to rush past her, hardly knowing 
what he did, when the surrounding crowd separated, and 
Emma, on Angern’s arm, was seen advancing to the piano 
from the opposite end of the saloon. She was beaming with 
youth and happiness, and many a sweetly smiling glance did 
she throw to this side and that, as she swept along, certain of 
seeing each one caught up eagerly by one or the other of her 
admirers. Now she was seated at the open piano, and the 
look which she cast over the instrument, and which met the 
anger-flashing eye of her excited lover, said no more than all 
the others. With the greatest coolness, sure of her victory, 
she ran over the keys with her little white master-hands. A 
dense crowd of listeners had assembled around the piano, as 
is usual on such occasions. 

“ What do you think she will favor us with?” asked Isa- 
bella of Heloise, who stood by her side. 

“ Probably one of her Italian Arias, which she sings so 
well,” was the answer. 

u You are very much mistaken ! She is wise enough to 
know that Angern has heard such things performed better, 
and he is, of course, the one towards whom all her artillery 
is directed to-night.” 

t At this moment Emma, with a clear, melodious voice, 
commenced singing a charming little song, which penetrated 
to the inmost soul of Heloise, who had often sung it to Felix 
in their childhood: a popular song from their part of the 
country, which Felix, because it was a great favorite of his, 


HELOISE. 


85 


had, with her aid, set to music some time ago, and given to 
Emma. It was one of those simple German melodies, so full 
of heartiness and genuine expression, which resound from the 
depths of the bosom to the innermost heart of the hearer. 
The words, as is often the case in these songs, were more ex- 
pressive of ingenuousness and depth of feeling than remarkable 
for their poetic worth. They were these : 

“ The soldiers are passing with music so loud ; 

Of their swords and their feathers they’re mightily proud. 

• 

The girls in a hurry run out in the street ; 

The one gives a nod, and another looks sweet. 

Run after your lovers as far as you will, 

I’ll stay in my chamber, so cosy and still. 

What care I how much you all run, gape, and stare ; 

My true love’s at work in yon shop over there. 

By land and by water, north, south, east, or west, 

My own darling hoy is the one I love best. 

What if I am busy from morning till night ? 

The thought of my true love’s my only delight. 

And though now and then with another I stroll, 

Yet his image sparkles and shines in my soul; 

And if to another I do sometimes smile, 

My boy, he is safe in my heart all the while.” 

A deafening applause rewarded Emma, who, in fact, had 
sung the little song with the most charming innocence of the 
most perfect actress. Heloise’s eye rested on Felix, whose 
countenance was the mirror of his varying emotions. He 
looked disconcerted, appeared for a while forcibly to re- 
tain anger and rage, until at last the expression of passion 
softened down into one of deep sadness. During the noise of 
the applause, he whispered to his sister, while he tried to hide 


86 


HELOISE. 


a certain sense of shame by a forced smile : u The enchan- 
tress ! My heart is like wax in her hands !” and, turning 
quickly, intended to escape unnoticed from the throng ; but 
at this moment Emma approached close to his side, as if 
she was going to look for something in the heap of music be- 
fore him. Heloise, trembling, cast down her eyes ; she could 
not witness the exchange of looks that reconciled the lovers; 
but she heard distinctly Emma’s words, spoken in an under- 
tone, “ On your knees you shall beg my pardon to-morrow !” 
Felix stayed ; Emma returned to her seat at the piano, and 
sang a brilliant Italian Cavatina, for which Angern thanked 
her much more politely than for the first little song. 

Now Heloise was asked to sing ; but she refused decidedly ; 
it seemed to her as if her simple melodies had been dese- 
crated by Emma. She was, however, willing to play, and 
was enough of a proficient not to let her agitation have any 
effect on her performance. She pulled her gloves off her 
beautiful arms in silence, and played, with that precision and 
dexterity for which she was remarkable, one of those elabo- 
rate and brilliant, but cold, concert-pieces, in which modern 
composition abounds. Solely occupied with the correct ful- 
filment of her task, she did not notice that Angern, who had 
already been struck with her pure, dignified beauty, regarded 
her with the deepest attention. When she had finished, a 
remark of his, about music, drew her immediately, even before 
Isabella had introduced him to her, into a conversation with 
him. Not until the baroness joined them did Heloise remem- 
ber the words that had escaped her in the morning ; but the 
adroitness of her two companions left no room for the embar- 
rassment which was rising in her. The conversation flowed 
on smoothly, sustained more by Isabella and Angern than by 
herself, and yet always with so much attention towards her, 
that she seemed the central point of it. 

When she arrived at home that night, and, in her quiet 


HELOISE. 


87 


chamber, reviewed the evening, she would have felt that satis- 
faction which the enjoyment of hours passed in the society 
of the intellectual and the kind-hearted gives us, had not the 
wound of her heart commenced to bleed anew ; for this even- 
ing had only served to convince the poor child, still more, of 
the incomprehensible influence which a worthless coquette 
had acquired over one to whom she felt herself bound with 
every tie which is dear and sacred to a woman’s heart. She 
had seen more plainly than ever, to-night, that Felix loved 
Emma against his own better judgment. For what else 
could he mean by his “ You are right — you all are right !” 
“ How little must he care for my opinion,” she sighed, “ or how 
strong must his love be, that it makes him forget and overlook 
entirely what formerly he thought so much of!” With these 
reflections, without bestowing a single thought on Angern, 
and with a thousand tears, she at length fell asleep. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE STORY COMES TO A STAND. 

Yet Angern was not the man who could long remain indif- 
ferent to a girl whom he distinguished in any way. His mind 
and judgment were so superior, that a woman’s worth might 
almost have been measured by the degree in which she knew 
to appreciate his attentions. Now only did Heloise learn 
to know the charm of intellectual, inciting conversation ; the 
invaluable advantage to be derived from hearing the inter- 
change of ideas of superior minds. Since Angern’s return, 
Isabella staid at home almost every evening, and her friend 
was soon again a regular guest at her tea-table. Three or four 
other men of intellect — rarely more — commonly joined them, 
and Heloise had a standing invitation, “ to take the making 
of the tea off her hands,” as Isabella said, with a smile. He- 
loise, eager for information and susceptible of improvement 
as she was, felt deeply grateful towards Isabella for this dis- 
tinction. The conversation turned on subjects taken from 
divers departments : belles-lettres, philosophy, history, political 
economy, but above all, the great questions of the day. On 
all these Heloise heard persons of mind give and defend 
their views. She herself, as was suitable to her youth, was 
mostly a listener. But the careful education she had re- 
ceived had sufficiently developed her mind to enable her to 
say, with the Princess of Este, in G-oethe’s Tasso : 

“ I do rejoice, when learned men are speaking, 

That I full well can understand their meaning.” 


HELOISE. 


89 


A new world seemed to open to her. Particularly in the 
examination of the comprehensive questions of the rights of 
man and the people. Among the circle was one — the kindest, 
mildest man in the world, but who nevertheless, like Caligula 
of the Romans, could have wished that all the tribe of jour- 
nalists had but one head, and for himself, the power to strike 
it off at one blow. He was highly aristocratic, of the most con- 
sequential historical school, was wont to quote Leo and 
Gorres,* and there was hardly one violation of the spirit of 
the age, which Heloise did not hear him justify, only because 
it had a historical foundation. 

An intimate friend of the aristocrat was one who belonged 
to the liberal party, had fought in the war of liberty, and 
bore the iron cross on his breast. He wished for improvement, 
but was at the same time conservative, and so true a royalist 
that he was often not a little embarrassed when he tried to 
erect the new edifice on legal ground, which was so covered 
with rubbish and ruins, that he could find no room for his 
structure. Yet he was noble and intellectual, and Isabella 
usually agreed with him. For women of a better class are 
only revolutionists when unnaturally perverted ; even if they 
love liberty, they hold morality still higher, which is the pro- 
tection and guard of their elevated station, and has its founda- 
tion in the conservative principle. Such views were also those 
most familiar to Heloise, for they were, in fact, those in accor- 
dance with which her foster-mother, with all her aristocratic 
dignity, had lived, allowing with pleasure all those renovations 
which could be advantageous to her tenants, and willingly 
sacrificing many a prescriptive right of nobility, if by so doing 
she could promote the common good. 

Angern went much farther. He too, while yet a boy, had, 

* Two distinguished German writers, champions of the legitimate 
historical school. 


90 


HELOISE. 


with the purest enthusiasm, taken a part in the campaign 
against G-ermany’s oppressor. During the years spent at 
the University, his name had stood in the black-hook of gov- 
ernment, and he had long borne about in his heart the ideal 
of a constitution, the realization of which, his own judgment 
had told him, was impossible. His decidedly liberal views 
had excluded him from the government-service, such as it 
was ; a residence of several years in the United States of Amer- 
ica had only served to open his eyes more completely to the 
defects at home. Yet he was far too sensible to seek for the 
cause of these defects in the monarchy , or to ascribe proletari- 
anism to the mistakes of the government , and too honest to wish 
forcibly to make room where his friend of the liberal school 
could not find any, by a sudden overthrow or wanton de- 
molition. But he discovered among the ruins themselves, 
sometimes even buried deep beneath the rubbish, the finest 
blocks for laying a durable foundation, so that it only seemed 
to him necessary to remove this rubbish, and cut away a few 
stones that were already so loose that their sudden fall threat- 
ened great danger. Reformation was what he desired — de- 
cided reformation : remodelling, but not revolution. Heloise 
was often startled to see the dauntlessness with which he ap- 
plied the knife to points which she had deemed sacred. She 
had never doubted the divine rights of royalty, and early 
accustomed herself secretly to transfer something of “the 
grace of God” to the nobility. But she listened attentively 
and thoughtfully to the noble speaker, and by degrees it 
grew lighter and lighter within her. 

There was also a Bed Bepublican who often joined the 
circle, whose white vest and kid gloves did not seem quite in 
accordance with his bloody theories. He was wont to smile 
contemptuously when the deeds of 1813 and 1814 were 
spoken of, and liked to give “ the German Michel ” a blow 
across the head. Heine was his favorite, and he worshipped 


HELOISE. 


9l 

the French. Heloise could not endure him, hut Isabella 
thought him a man of honor, and the friends let him do as 
he liked, and suffered him to develope his whole system of 
revolution and destruction. 

The fanatical dream of Socialism, and that poisonous 
weed, Communism, alone found no advocates in Isabella’s 
noble and moral circle of friends. 

Since that first morning, Isabella had never again hinted 
to Heloise, by word or mien, at her wish with regard to An- 
gern. But his preference soon manifested itself decidedly — 
if not in words, that is, by an open declaration — yet in the 
tender respect with which he, a man so superior and so much 
older, treated the young girl. His voice softened when he 
spoke to her, and with the most amiable attention, he ex- 
plained to her circumstances with which she was not familiar, 
recommended books, and showed her such marks of preference 
as a young lady in society can accept without thereby giving 
any encouragement. These attentions had been increased so 
gradually, that our young heroine was in the full enjoyment 
of them before she knew it. When she at last thought of the 
possible consequences, it seemed to her too late to avoid 
them, without making herself conspicuous. 

In the meanwhile Angern had by no means neglected 
Emma and her family. He occasionally took dinner there, 
when the time always passed very slowly, and often, after 
leaving Isabella in the evening, he went to a ball or a soiree, 
where he found Emma as the belle of the evening, surrounded 
by admirers, and always paid her many little insignificant 
attentions. He did not seem to remark any of her usual 
flirtations, hardly appeared to notice Felix — although he was 
always near Emma, and often drew upon himself the general 
attention by his ill humor and capriciousness — but whenever 
he came in contact with him, treated him with such distinguish- 
ed politeness, that he could not give vent to his irritation. 


92 


HELOISE, 


Thus a full month had passed since Angern’s arrival, and 
not one of the parties had come forward with an open decla- 
ration. It is easy to understand what induced Angern to 
maintain such a careful reserve. With his penetration, he 
could soon observe how matters stood. He saw through Emma 
at once, and no idea was more foreign to his mind, than that 
of making a coquette, full of selfishness, and without the least 
depth of soul, his partner for life. 

But the Willingen family regarded him as betrothed to 
Emma — he himself had given them the right to do so, in an 
hour when the wound caused by the loss of Isabella was still 
fresh, and, with the hope of domestic happiness, his usual 
caution had also deserted him. Emma’s extreme youth, and 
the naivete of the girl of fourteen, had led him to hope, at 
that time, that, after having travelled through the world, and 
imbibed its wonders, he might, by the side of a pretty, pleasing, 
and improvable wife, in the possession of an independent 
fortune, find a haven of rest. Besides, he was determined to 
tear himself away, at any cost, and the distance of the goal 
had prevented him from viewing it plainly. Now he stood 
close before it, and he felt the full weight of his fetters. But 
he had been chained of his own free will ; only Emma’s incli- 
nation, when she should be capable of judging for herself, was 
to be consulted — the possibility of his withdrawing, had not 
been thought of. The affair between Emma and Felix was 
therefore a real relief to him ; Emma could not have shown 
more plainly what she thought of her engagement, than 
by encouraging the attentions of another suitor. He was 
uncertain whether her grandparents knew of it or not ; but 
at any rate it was Emma’s duty to inform them or him of 
her decision. If he took the first step, he could hardly escape 
the accusation of having broken the contract. And he was 
too well acquainted with the selfishness of the old people, not 
to know that this circumstance, in the new settlement about 


HELOISE. 


93 


the division of the inheritance, wonld be taken advantage of 
to oblige him to make sacrifices for which he had less inclina- 
tion than ever, now that his long and expensive travels had 
made considerable gaps in the fortune left him by his father. 
He therefore resolved to continue his acquaintance with 
Emma as her cousin and friend, without giving the family 
reason to expect more than heretofore — and to wait patiently 
for Emma’s or Felix’s declaration. The conduct of the latter, 
whose fortune enabled him to offer Emma his hand at any 
time, and, as far as he, Angern, could judge of the old people, 
to supplant him in their estimation, was perfectly incompre- 
hensible to him. He had too great a knowledge of mankind, 
not to see that the passionate youth loved Emma honorably, 
and intended marriage. Why then, did he not speak? 

And the same question might be asked by our readers, who 
have heard Felix express his intention only to await An- 
gern’s arrival in order to explain to him his sentiments and woo 
Emma openly. And the reasons for his delay might be more 
difficult to give than those in Angern’s case. For it can only 
be ascribed to the strange influence which Emma, contrary to 
his own better judgment, had acquired over him. Scenes 
like that described in the last chapter, were daily repeated. 
Felix, tormented by jealousy, and a dark suspicion of Emma’s 
falseness, vowed a thousand times, that he would tear himself 
from her. 

But a single look from her brought him back to her feet 
— to her arms ; for she felt plainly that she must make the 
hours of reconciliation the most blissful for him, in order not 
to lose the power of reconciling him again. After such 
moments he would have gone to Angern to disclose all to him, 
and, in Emma’s name, give up all claim to the disputed part 
of the inheritance, which he promised to make up for by the 
double amount. But Emma urged him to stay — she entreat* 
ed him not to spoil all by a too hasty disclosure. Her grand- 


94 


HELOISE. 


parents, obstinate old people that they were, would never 
consent to her union with him, if they were, by so doing, to 
lose the inheritance, which for years past they had accustom- 
ed themselves to regard as secure property, and on which, as 
she had accidentally learned, they had already taken up a 
capital, for a part of the payment of her expensive educa- 
. tion. Angern must draw back, she said, Angern must volun- 
tarily renounce the inheritance, before her grandparents 
could be won. She was sure he would soon see that she 
could not suit him, and would turn his attentions to another. 
If Felix was to ask her in marriage of her grandparents now, 
the certain result would be a refusal, and she would be com- 
manded — she added, weeping — to follow that detested Angern 
to the altar. 

Emma was remarkably eloquent in these conversations, 
and never let Felix go, without his having promised her not 
to take any step in this affair without her knowledge. While 
she took all this pains, she had an ally in a secret suspicion 
which arose in Felix, and, though at first but slight, soon 
crept through his veins like a slowly corroding poison : namely 
— whether Emma did not perhaps, after all, wish for this delay, 
in order to gain time to choose between her two lovers. Thus, 
even amidst Emma’s protestations of love, he could not come 
to a real enjoyment of his bliss. He was completely out of 
tune inwardly — neglected his business at the Legation, en- 
tirely against his usual custom and habits, which were those 
of almost military punctuality, to such a degree, that he re- 
ceived a reprimand from his ambassador, which pained him 
deeply, because he was conscious that he had deserved it — and 
felt, as day after day passed on, more and more angry with 
himself, and more and more dissatisfied and miserable. He- 
loise he saw more rarely than ever, and always for a short 
time only. Any confidential discourse was avoided by both, 


HELOISE. 


95 


with equal reserve. Thus it happened that Felix remained 
ignorant of the fact that Heloise saw Angern every day. 

It was said that Isabella was in poor health, and that, 
Heloise, who accompanied Madame von Pollwitz into society, 
which had few attractions for her, less frequently than in the 
beginning of the winter, staid with her to keep her company. 
Felix, occupied by but one idea, did not make any farther 
inquiries. 

Emma was a closer observer, and it can hardly be doubted 
that the fear of seeing herself so soon supplanted, and that 
by Heloise, who, by her moral superiority, and as the sister of 
Felix, was the object of her continual jealousy, was the main- 
spring of her reluctance to letting Angern go so easily. We 
do not believe that she intended to give up Felix for him. 
Felix was richer, younger, and handsomer than Angern ; he 
was blindly in love with her, and could be guided by her 
caprices — while Angern, on the other hand, even if he loved 
her, would probably play the part of Mentor with her. She 
hardly had any regular plan. She had taken a good deal of 
pains to win Angern’s approbation, had turned naive, senti- 
mental, and literary for his sake — and should she now 
calmly suffer him to give her up without a struggle ? She 
could not endure the idea that this connection, which for so 
long had appeared so romantic to her, should now all of a 
sudden come to such a flat conclusion. She hoped for a 
scene — for an eclat of some sort ; she did not know herself 
how she would have it end ; only not so very quietly — at least 
a duel, or an elopement, or something of the kind. In all 
probability, too, she had judged correctly of her grandparents’ 
sentiments — for the present she wished only for delay. 

Then, too, her little head was just now occupied with en- 
tirely different things, the romance of which would not chord 
very well with the dry reality of a marriage with one of the 
hundred-thousand German noblemen. The war in Spain, be- 


96 


HELOISE. 


tween the two opposite parties, had long since divided the 
fair politicians of the capital into two bodies. Emma had, 
so far, been on the side of the Liberals, for a portrait of 
Munoz, which, in passing by a print-shop, she saw in the 
window, had enchanted her to such a degree, that a copy of 
it, in an elegant gilt frame, soon hung in her room. But 
when Don Carlos was forced to seek shelter in England, and 
his followers, deprived of their arms and means of subsistence, 
dispersed to all sides, one of them, who, as one of the adju- 
tants of Zumala Caraguy, had frequently been named in the 
papers, had found his way to the city where our scene lies. 
All the young ladies were exceedingly curious to see the 
famous Spanish hero. But — the fair Carlists were some- 
what taken aback. Don Perez de Collado — for so was the 
interesting stranger called — had dull, coarse features, was of 
small stature, very thin, and of a yellow, rather than pale 
complexion ; but a pair of large, melancholy eyes, so black 
and burning that nothing like them had ever yet been seen 
at the North, and boldly surmounted by bushy, equally black 
eyebrows, made up for a good deal. This, at least, was the 
opinion of Emma, who found, in fact, the presence of one 
Carlist, particularly one in distress, a thousand times more 
interesting than a whole army of distant Liberals. Collado 
was destitute of all the necessaries of life. To gain his 
living in an honorable manner, he informed the public, by 
a short advertisement in the papers, that, in order not to be 
obliged to beg or starve, he was desirous of giving instruc- 
tion in the Spanish language. The advertisement created a 
great sensation — it had something touching from the lips of a 
hero. A class of young ladies from the first families, who 
were willing to pay a double fee, was soon formed. Emma 
was one of the most zealous among them. She was burning 
with impatience to read Calderon in the original. Soon, 
however, she was not satisfied with learning the language 


HELOISE. 


97 


alone. Collado suppressed a laugh when German ladies per- 
formed Spanish ballads to the piano. He taught Emma, a 
charming, intelligent scholar, to sing Castilian Romanzas 
and Andalusian Chansonetas to the guitar, with all the wild 
fire of the Southerners. All this was so interesting ! And 
should she now, just when she was getting on so well, inter- 
rupt herself by a new engagement, by all the privileges of an 
acknowledged lover, all the preparations for her wedding, 
etc., etc. ? There would be time enough for that when she 
was tired of Spanish ! 

5 


CHAPTER X. 


THE STORY PROCEEDS 

Thus it was as unexpected as unwelcome to Emma, when 
suddenly, by a common accidental occurrence, an explanation 
was rendered unavoidable. 

It was late in the month of March ; the breath of spring 
was already in the air, and Heloise longed for her native 
village, when, one morning, after a stormy night, the broad 
streets of the capital were covered with snow, three feet deep. 
Departing winter seemed to invite to the enjoyment of his 
pleasures by the richest of his gifts. Without delay a moon- 
light sleighing-party was planned by the male portion of the 
juvenile nobility, a ballroom in the neighborhood was hired, 
and after a few noble married ladies had promised to patronize 
the impromptu, the gentlemen were soon scattered over all 
the fashionable parts of the city to invite the young ladies 
to take a part in the proposed excursion. Felix’s heart beat 
high in expectation of the evening, for although he had not 
been able, for some time past, to resist Emma’s kind propo- 
sition to meet her at her milliner’s, who placed a comfortable 
upper room at their disposal, yet he, for his part, was rather 
ashamed of this secrecy. He longed to call the woman he 
loved his , publicly and rightfully, and though such a sleigh- 
ride would have no important consequences, it was still some- 
thing of a satisfaction to him, to be able to appear with 
Emma in public after so much secrecy. 

He would have liked to give Emma a hint of his purpose, 
but there was no time for that. He therefore called on her 


HELOISE. 


99 


grandmother, informed her of the plan for the sleigh-ride, 
and, in the politest terms, asked permission to drive Emma. 
The old lady was silent for a while. At length she said : “ I 
am afraid, sir, that this will not be possible.” 

Felix turned crimson. u Why not, madam?” 

“ It is more suitable,” replied Madame von Willingen, drily, 
“ that Emma should ride with her cousin, Baron Angern.” 

Felix restrained himself with difficulty. “Baron An- 
gern” he replied, stiffly, “ as far as I know, will not be of the 
party.” 

“ Indeed !” remarked the grandmother, in the same tone 
as before. “ Well, then at any rate, it is better that Emma 
should not join it without asking him about it, for she is en- 
gaged to Baron Angern.” 

Felix rose. His whole face was in a glow. 11 Very well,” 
he said, with a low bow, “ then I have, for the present, no- 
thing more to say, until I have asked Baron Angern if he 
lays claim to this right.” 

He went, with the firm resolution of having an immediate 
explanation with Angern. In passing through the hall, he 
asked the servant if Miss von Willingen was at home. 

u Yes, sir,” the man replied, in a tone which had a shade 
of contempt in it ; “ but her Spanish master is here again, 
and she must not be interrupted.” 

“ Truly,” thought Felix, as he walked along with hasty 
strides, “ I am tired of forever playing so humble a part ! 
Now or never ! I will no longer share her with arrogant 
cousins and Spanish fortune-hunters !” 

Angern received him with respectful civility. He con- 
jectured what brought him, and Felix did not long leave him 
in doubt. He declared to him, in a few words, that he loved 
Emma, and wished to marry her ; that heretofore he had not 
known whether or not to believe the report that she was en- 
gaged to Angern, but had just heard it confirmed by Madame 


100 


HELOISE. 


yon Willingen herself ; and that he had come to ask him 
frankly, how far he agreed to this arrangement. 

u Permit me, first, to ask you a question : Did Miss 
Emma know that you intended to call on me ?” 

“ No,” replied Felix, without hesitation. 

“ And have you reason to hope that she would approve of 
this step, if she were made aware of it ?” 

“ Does your answer to my question depend on my reply 
to yours ?” asked Felix. 

“ It does indeed,” said Angern. 

u Well, then I can say, without indiscretion, that I have 
reason to hope that the young lady would not reject me, if 
she were free.” 

“ In that case she is free,” replied Angern. “ Let Emma 
herself decide whether I am to give up my claims or not 
and then, with more candor than was contained in these 
words, he began to explain to Felix, in detail, all the circum- 
stances which bound him to Emma. Only his opinion of her, 
and the conviction that, even without the intervention of 
her lover, he never would have made himself the victim of an 
imprudent contract, he carefully concealed. 

Felix, on the other hand, frank as always, expressed the 
hope that Emma’s grandfather, who was at the same time her 
guardian, would be satisfied with a new agreement which 
would conform with the inclinations of both parties. What- 
ever he could contribute to it, should be done — for it was not 
the heiress that he loved in Emma — and an equal division 
seemed to him the most reasonable. 

Angern begged him to let the affairs of the inheritance 
rest for the present ; that he, for his part, was resolved to 
avoid bringing up the suit, and had no thoughts of taking 
an ignoble advantage of Emma’s change of mind. They then 
agreed that Felix should, without delay, ask Emma’s hand 
in marriage of her grandparents, and should be authorized to 


HELOISE. 


101 


refer to Angern’s remark, that Emma might decide for herself. 
Felix had long ago forgotten the sleigh-ride. He went 
home immediately and wrote a formal letter of proposal to 
the colonel, in which, in order to prevent a refusal, he men- 
tioned his interview with Angern. 

Meanwhile Emma was sitting at home in the worst pos- 
sible humor. She had heard of the intended excursion from a 
friend who called, and was in hourly expectation of Felix’s com- 
ing to invite her to take a part in it. As all the other gentlemen 
knew that Waldeck had had the intention of driving Miss von 
Willingen, and had therefore gone to call on her, no one else 
gave her an invitation. Hour after hour passed away, but no 
Felix appeared. Her vexation increased rapidly. Her grand- 
mother said nothing about his call ; the shrewd old lady had 
long since had an idea how matters stood, and, impatient at 
Angern’s protracted silence on the subject, had taken the first 
opportunity to bring about an explanation. Emma, accus- 
tomed never to be frank with her grandmother, did not show 
her vexation before her, pretended not to know any thing 
about the sleigh-ride, and grew, in the course of the day, 
by concealing with difficulty her state of mind, more and more 
exasperated against Felix. 

In the evening, while the family were at tea, the servant 
brought the colonel a letter, with the words, “ From Mr. von 
Waldeck.” 

“ What does this mean ?” thought Emma ; “ can he have — 
in spite of my request — ?” and her vexation increased with 
every moment. 

Meanwhile the colonel had examined the seal — then the 
direction — then the seal again. At last he opened the letter, 
laid it down, pulled his spectacles slowly out of his pocket, 
and still more slowly out of the case, put them on his nose, 
and stretched out his hand for the letter, in order to read the 
signature. Then he put the letter down again, told the ser- 


102 


HELOISE. 


vant to light a candle, saying that he could not read by the 
lamp alone, held the letter behind the candle which was 
brought, and finally read it. 

During this time Emma could hardly contain herself, for 
impatience. Suddenly a jingling of bells was heard in the 
street — the famous sleigh-ride had commenced, and, in order 
to take advantage of the good sleighing in the city, the whole 
party drove through all the principal streets, before proceed- 
ing to the place of their destination. Emma’s indignation 
towards Felix reached its highest pitch. She firmly resolved 
to revenge herself. The colonel had put the letter in his 
pocket and was leisurely sipping his tea. At length he sent 
the servant out of the room. 

11 Tell me, Emma,” he began, “ on what terms are you with 
Angern now?” 

“ On what terms I am with my cousin, my dear grand- 
father?” asked Emma, as if she did not know at all what he 
meant. “ Why, as usual — we are good friends.” 

“ I mean, Emma, has he ever hinted to you, since he came 
back, that he still wants to marry you ?” 

u Has he perhaps hinted the contrary to you ?” replied 
Emma, pertly. 

“ Not exactly, but it is not much better that he has said 
nothing about it. What think you — if some one else wanted 
you, would you be willing to let Angern go ?” 

“ I shall conform to your wishes in every thing, grandpapa,” 
said Emma, while her face grew scarlet. 

“ Fudge ! that’s what all the girls say, — and in the end 
you’ll be sure to have your own way, after all. What do you 
think of Waldeck, ducky, eh?” 

“ He certainly shall not gain his point quite so easily,” 
thought Emma, and continued aloud, “ But the lawsuit ?” 

“ Yes, that is a confounded affair ! It uses up quantities 
of money, and is terribly vexatious. Really, Emmy, the law- 


HELOISE. 


103 


yers said the compromise was the wisest step that we could 
take, for your cause could not have been kept up much longer.” 

“ And so now you want to give up an inheritance, which 
is half the fortune of your poor Emma ?” 

“ Who says so? Can’t we propose a division of the property? 
I’ll tell you what, Emmy, you are pretty avaricious for a girl 
of your age ! Other such young things leave those matters to 
their parents or guardians.” 

Emma burst into tears : “ How you wrong me i oh heavens, 
how far you mistake me ! And I must hear this from you, 
just for two men, for neither of whom I care a straw !” 

“ Well, well,” said the colonel, who, like all selfish men, 
could not see tears without getting provoked ; “ they are both 
not to be despised, Emmy ! But, you know, I shall let you 
have your own way. Don’t take either, if you don’t like them. 
You’ve got money enough to get along alone! An old maid 
don’t want much to live on.” 

The colonel had touched Emma’s weakest spot. The 
mere words “ old maid ” applied to herself, roused her indig- 
nation : “ What good would it do, if I were to say that I pre- 
ferred Waldeck? You would only call me avaricious.” 

“ It would not be a bad choice, at all,” replied the colonel. 

“ But Angern,” objected Emma, “ will he agree to all 
this so readily?” 

u If he cared any thing for you, would he not have spoken 
long ago ? He knows that our fine estates will not escape 
him, whatever may happen.” 

The idea that her grandparents, and with them the world, 
might believe that Angern rejected her, was insupportable to 
Emma. “ And how do you know,” she asked, with irrita- 
tion, “but what Angern is only silent because he thinks 
my heart belongs to another ?” 

“ Aha !” cried the old gentleman, “ is that it? Yes, yes, 
things look as if Waldeck was pretty sure of success. He’s 


104 


HELOISE. 


not the fellow to court a girl that’s known to Tbe engaged, if 
you had not given him notice that you would like to shift.” 

“ There you and he are very likely to find yourselves mis- 
taken ” said Emma, angrily. “ You can just tell him that I 
don’t like him — or — ” she added, hesitatingly, “ that I ask 
some time to consider about it.” 

On the following morning, Felix received a letter from 
the colonel, in which he thanked him for the honorable dis- 
tinction, and with regard to the answer, requested a short 
time for consideration. 

Felix, not suspecting that this had been Emma’s answer, 
was not surprised by it, for he knew very well that no step 
could be taken in the matter without an agreement with An- 
gern. The latter, however, to whom he communicated the 
letter, saw the necessity of settling the affair immediately, so 
that the claims laid upon him might not be doubled in 
strength, by the rejection of the new suitor. 

He, therefore, on the evening of the same day, went to Co- 
lonel Willingen’s house, and late enough to find the old people 
immovably fixed at their whist-table. Emma, who was making 
tea in the other room, received him with the most charming 
cordiality. He sat down by her. There was an expression 
of timid sadness in her face, which perplexed Angern, and 
which he tried to account for by her fear that he might insist 
upon his claims. He generously resolved to speak frankly 
with her as soon as the servant had left the room. But it 
seemed as if tea would never be over ; the cups had just 
been brought back for the third time. Thus he had time to 
observe Emma closely. He had long admired the grace and 
elegance with which she fulfilled this domestic duty ; conver- 
sation, while she was thus employed, could only be carried on 
in commonplace words and expressions, but just these, as well 
as looks and miens, conveyed many an arrow from the little 
coquette to him. “You cannot think, my dear cousin,” she 


HELOISE. 


105 


sighed, “ how tired I am of living so much in society ! Now 
that spring is coming again, I long so for the country !” — and 
then again : “ How tiresome you must find our everlasting 
sameness here, after your travels ; how shallow our eternal 
tea-drinkings must seem to you ! I wish you had taken me 
with you as your page to the Andes or the Himmelaya moun- 
tains ! Don’t you think little Emma would have made quite 
a pretty page ? How did I look at that time 1 (and, with the 
sweetest of smiles,) as ugly as now ?”■ — Then she asked him 
about some books of importance, of which she had heard him 
speak ; u How ignorant I am !” she cried ; u how often have 
I felt so bitterly that I am an orphan ! If I had not lost my 
mother so early, she would have directed my steps, and 
taught me to make the best of my time. My youth stands 
so much in need of a guide !” She turned away, and seemed 
to brush away a tear. 

Angern was confused. “ What is she aiming at ?” he 
asked himself. And really, he might ask that — only that 
Emma herself did not in fact know what she meant. Her 
anger at Felix had softened over night. She felt very well 
that she could not make a match which promised her more of 
what she called happiness. But Angern must positively 
learn to recognize the power of her charms. Her grand- 
father mistook her, in thinking her too avaricious for her age. 
The idea did come into her head that Angern, if he were in 
love with her, and obliged to give her up, would doubtless 
be much less willing to make a sacrifice with regard to their 
mutual inheritance, than if he himself wished to break the 
tie ; but this voice was entirely silenced by the much louder 
one of her offended vanity. 

At length the tea-things were removed. Before Angern 
had found a suitable introduction to his intended explanation, 
Emma had already taken up her guitar, in order to charm 
him with the truly Spanish expression which Collado had 
5 * 


106 


HELOISE. 


taught her to put into “ Mia madre , amoves tengo ! n Angern 
half listened, while his mind ran on other things. The 
Southern fire displeased him in a German girl. When 
she had finished, he took the guitar from her hands without 
much ado, and, seating himself by her side, while she looked 
at him hesitatingly, said : 

u You sing beautifully, my dear Emma ; this precious 
talent alone ’ is enough to ‘delight a man and to make his 
life pleasant. But for the present allow me to improve these 
rare moments of our being alone, in coming to an under- 
standing with you. You know, probably, my dear cousin, 
what we old people agreed upon with regard to you, when 
you were a child of not yet fourteen ?” 

u And what if I knew it ?” asked Emma, with a most 
fascinating smile. 

u Then you would know,” replied Angern, perfectly calm, 
as if he were speaking of the most indifferent things, but 
without looking at her, u that we were very foolish. The 
affair can be arranged differently. It is plain that I am too 
old for you. I ought to have staid here at least, to gain 
your affections. But it was very imprudent in us to hope 
that you would fix them upon an absent person. I can 
therefore only approve of your having favored the advances 
of another worthy young man, whom nature seems to have 
made for you.” 

“ Who told you,” whispered Emma, confounded with sur- 
prise, and hardly able to control her voice, “ that I have 
favored them ?” 

“ Certainly not your conduct in society,” replied Angern ; 
and added, well versed as he was in the mysteries of the hu- 
man heart, but, on the one hand, the coldness with which 
you have shown me nothing but friendship since my return ; 
and on the other, the fact that Waldeck would not have 
asked the hand of an affianced bride in marriage, and much 


HELOISE. 


107 


less would have expressed his wishes to the intended himself, 
unless he had had some hope of being accepted.” 

The perfect composure and plainness with which Angern 
spoke, convinced Emma that for the present she had nothing 
to hope from this quarter ; and the delicacy with which he 
professed to have seen only friendship in her behavior, as- 
sisted her much in hiding her inward emotion. She soon 
regained her composure, and said, a Your frankness, my 
dear cousin, makes it my duty also, to be perfectly plain 
with you. It seems to me, indeed, as if I were not exactly 
suited to you ; and if you know some other way of settling 
our contract, I should prefer it.” 

“ Leave it all to me,” said Angern, very much relieved ; 
u and allow me to offer you my congratulations for your mar- 
riage with our friend Waldeck.” 

Emma did not answer. But when, the next morning, 
Baron Angern was announced to the colonel, and the latter, 
before he went to receive his guest, asked her once more 
which of the two she really liked best, adding, “ Waldeck 
has the most money,” she said, u I don’t like Angern. If 
you have no objection, you can accept Waldeck for me.” 

Angern’s generosity, his uncommon knowledge of business, 
and the perfect simplicity with which he treated the most 
entangled affairs, soon put every thing right. The inherit- 
ance which we have so often mentioned, consisted mostly of 
landed property, which was advantageously let out. As the 
first lawsuit had lasted three years, and it had been agreed 
upon in the compromise, to leave the income from these leases 
untouched till Emma should be of age, it had grown in these 
ten years into so considerable a capital as to nearly equal 
the worth of the real estate. Angern proposed that he should 
take the latter, and leave the other to Emma, while at the 
same time he declared himself willing to make up the balance. 

Colonel Willingen found it difficult to conceal his satis- 


108 


HELOISE. 


faction, for the warnings of his lawyer gave him very little 
hope from the renewal of the lawsuit. He said to him- 
self, “ I certainly should have thought Angern was wiser than 
this,” but still pretended as if he only allowed the affair to 
take this turn from love of peace ; and Angern took no pains 
to show him that he understood him. 

The following morning Felix received Emma’s formal ac- 
ceptance, and was betrothed to her in the presence of her 
grandparents. 

Felix had now arrived at the point towards which he had 
struggled on for the last eight months with the most indefati- 
gable zeal : the charming Emma was, before God and man, 
his affianced bride ; and yet he was still far from being happy. 
The turn which matters had taken, so humiliating for her in- 
satiable vanity, had put Emma in the worst humor. 

She received him much more coldly than, as an accepted 
suitor, he had reason to expect, and when the grandparents, 
retiring, left her without constraint, she could not suppress 
some bitter words at his having, contrary to his promise, taken 
so important a step without consulting her. 

Felix, accustomed to her caprices, tried to kiss the re- 
proaches from her lips, and soon made her more amiable by 
his delight at having her all to himself now, but the thorn still 
remained in his heart, and when, an hour after, he was on his 
way to his sister, feverishly excited, without being cheerful, 
no one could have recognized in him a happy lover. 

He found Heloise looking over her papers. Her soul was 
with him. The recollection of their happy childhood, of which 
she had many a written remembrance — his letters from the 
University, which she had just been reading over again — all 
these had agitated and affected her deeply. She looked like 
a saint, when he entered the room, and, with her lap full of 
papers, she stretched out her hand to him with a gentle smile. 

After a few introductory sentences, during which Heloise 


HELOISE. 


109 


rearranged her papers and placed them in her writing-desk, 
he informed her that he had, a few days ago, proposed for 
Emma to her grandfather, that Angern had withdrawn his 
claim, and that he had just been betrothed to her by Colonel 
Willingen, her guardian. 

Heloise had risen from her seat. The blood rushed to 
her heart as he spoke ; she looked strangely pale and angelic. 
“ Well then,” she said when he paused, and, clasping her hands, 
lifted them solemnly towards heaven : “ Gracious Father in 
heaven, bless him ! bless him and his Emma!” She felt that 
her strength was leaving her, and grasped at a chair, but be- 
fore she could reach it, Felix, astonished and alarmed to the 
utmost, caught the fainting girl in his arms. Lisette came 
flying in, and with loud lamentations joined Felix in his efforts 
to restore Heloise to consciousness, in which they succeeded 
after a few minutes. 

“Now you see, dearest Miss Heloise,” cried the maid, as 
soon as her young mistress opened her eyes, “this comes from 
getting your feet wet again ! oh, Mr. Felix, my young lady 
won’t listen to me at all. She never will go to parties when 
it rains — she always makes the weather an excuse then, — but 
when she wants to go and see the poor folks, the weather is 
never too bad. And so this morning she has been over at the 
other end of the town again, to look after some sick children !” 

Heloise gratefully seized upon the pretext which Lisette 
unconsciously offered ; “ It is true,” she said, “ I have caught 
cold, dear Felix, I ought to have been more careful. Once 
again, God bless you !” 

Felix, in anxious concern, pressed her soft white hand to 
his lips a thousand times, and did not leave her until he had 
seen the color return to her cheeks. “ What a strange acci- 
dent !” he said to himself. “Wet feet may have been the 
original cause, but there is no doubt that it was the news 
of my engagement with Emma, that agitated her so much. 


110 


HELOISE. 


What a deeply rooted prejudice ! She does not love Em- 
ma ! She fears for my happiness by her side. Good, beloved 
girl ! Oh, she must, she will be Emma’s friend, when she is 
her sister. Her influence will improve her. Emma is good, 
and affectionate. The world has spoilt her. Oh, Heloise, 
your example will make her too love domestic life. How 
beautiful she looked as she stood before me, so pale and yet 
so glorious ! And what a blooming rose was she once ! What 
can be the matter with her ? The city air seems not to agree 
with her. She ought to go back to the country — only not 
now — how could I spare her now ?” 

In this agitated and troubled state of mind he came to his 
ambassador, whom he thought it his duty to acquaint with 
his betrothal. “ I wish you much joy,” said the latter, “Miss 
von Willingen is a charming girl, and sings exquisitely. 
I hear your sister is also engaged.” 

Eelix started : “ My sister ? not that I know of !” 

“No? Oh, well then ! The world is fond of gossip. My 
wife told me the other day that she was going to be married 
to Baron Angern. An excellent man, but a demagogue.” 

Felix dropped the subject, but an indescribable uneasi- 
ness remained in his mind. Heloise engaged ! He could give 
her up to no one ! And Angern ? — he was too old ! And 
yet — was it perhaps for this that the latter was so willing to 
draw back? Should Heloise, this good, pure being, tread 
the path of life alone, while he had formed another tie ? But 
no one was worthy of her. He knew no man who was de- 
serving of so perfect a woman. However — Angern was a 
man of honor — he would watch him, would watch them both. 

But Emma left poor Felix little time to observe others. 
Even now she succeeded, by means of alternate caprices— 
one day lavishing upon him a profusion of love and tender- 
ness, and the next, passing several hours in a pouting fit for 
offences of which he was unconscious — in keeping him in a 


HELOISE. 


Ill 


continual fever. But particularly from his sister she suc- 
ceeded in alienating him more and more. For the smallest 
attention shown to Heloise, he was sure to have to pay by 
a temporal estrangement on Emma’s side, and such re- 
proaches as : u He did not love her ; she sacrificed every thing 
for him, but he loved all his relations better than he did 
her.” And so, as Heloise also did not seek his company, 
and plainly avoided Emma, it was very natural that the 
brother and sister saw very little of each other. 

The little tea-circle at Isabella’s was still in existence. 
But Heloise, who had found in it her best consolation, began 
to feel that even this threatened to bring her trouble. An- 
gern’s preference showed itself more and more openly. With 
the most generous confidence, he communicated to his two 
friends his plans of life ; office-holding was disagreeable to 
him ; in the landed proprietor, in the agriculturist, he saw 
the true freeman, the support of the state. He intended to 
retire to his newly-acquired estates, there to do, on a small 
scale, for his tenants, what he so longed to do on a large one 
for his whole nation ; their education, their freedom, their hap- 
piness, should be the aim of his life. He expressed the wish 
to find a partner, who would share his views and his influ- 
ence. Many a glance told Heloise in whom he hoped to have 
this wish realized. And could she wish for herself a happier 
lot ? How often had she lamented that the existence of most 
of her sex is such a blank, their aim but their own happi- 
ness, the range of their thoughts never higher than their own 
family-circle, and in this even, only turning upon the satis- 
faction of physical desires. And if the wife and mother, in 
the midst of a numerous family, who, by her care, are all 
neatly and carefully clad, healthily fed, and punctually sent 
to school, is already to be honored, how much more enviable 
is the woman who can exert a like influence over the ex- 
tended circle of whole villages, and throw into the well-pre- 
pared soil the seed of a new and improved generation ? 


112 


HELOISE. 


And to have for a stay, for a cooperator, a man like An- 
gern, so well calculated, in all the different relations of life, to 
he an example and a guide for a high-souled woman ! With 
a pleasing personal appearance, agreeable manners, an even 
temperament, and generous sentiments, nothing was wanting 
in him to make the most superior woman happy. 

All this Heloise felt — all this she told herself again and 
again, and yet, with an incomprehensible obstinacy, her heart 
still held fast the image of the one man, who was not to be 
hers. She could not deceive herself so far as not to see that 
Angern, in point of intellect, stood far above Felix — but him 
she loved, only to him could she be a wife. The most con- 
flicting feelings coursed through her heart. What should 
she do, to escape from this struggle ? She would go back 
to the country, to solitude, to her youthful pleasures. But 
could she leave town before Felix’s marriage, without making 
her conduct very conspicuous, and highly offending him ? 
She would go to her father, would throw herself upon the 
only heart that was still hers. But he had not answered her 
letter — she had not heard from him since her foster-mother’s 
death. Should she wander about in strange countries, like 
an adventurer, in search of him ? What should she do ? 
Stay in town, and await the day which would give the final 
blow to her heart ? 

And this day, Emma’s wedding-day, was fixed on the last 
of May. A handsome suite of apartments was ready for the 
reception of the young couple. Meanwhile, however, the end 
of April had drawn near, when Felix went home for a short 
time, to settle, before his marriage, the affairs of his estate. 
He was expected back in three days. Heloise’s thoughts 
had gone with him to her beloved home. She felt almost re- 
lieved when he was there, and was looking forward to his 
return with trembling, when, suddenly, an expedient pre- 
sented itself. 


HELOISE. 


113 


Soon after her arrival in the capital, Heloise had become 
acquainted with the family of President von Groenau, and 
had been much attracted by the cordiality of their domestic 
circle, and the strong family -ties which bound the different 
members together. Five or six sons and daughters, all 
blessed with a numerous progeny, were happily married in 
the capital, and it was a heart-cheering sight, when (as was 
the case twice a week, on appointed days,) those fine-looking 
men and blooming women, with a host of lovely grandchil- 
dren of all ages, were gathered around the venerable, but hale 
and hearty parents. Only the youngest, a daughter, born 
ten years after her last predecessor, and therefore the pet of 
the whole family, lived with her parents, although she too 
was married, and mother of two charming children. Some 
four or five years ago, a Livonian nobleman, who was con- 
nected with the Russian embassy, had offered himself to her, 
and had not been refused. But as the parents did not wish 
to part from the only daughter that was left to them, Baron 
Rosen remained with her in her father’s house, without thus 
missing the convenience of a household of his own ; for the 
president was rich, and his wife, wise and discreet, procured 
every thing that could make a young couple happy. But 
hardly had the second year of their marriage passed, when 
Rosen was called home by an imperial dispatch, which gave 
him to understand that he was to receive an appointment in 
one of the inland provinces. He had always, since he held 
a civil office, been employed at the German legations, and 
had therefore considered such a summons very improbable, but 
his young wife had never even thought of the possibility of it. 
She was distracted — she declared that she could not live 
away from her family, from her mother. Rosen, at a loss 
what to do, especially as his wife was in a situation which 
soon would make her mother’s care more necessary to her 
than ever, at length resolved to go alone. He hoped, besides, 


114 


HELOISE. 


when once there, to be able to bring about a revocation, or at 
least his appointment to the legation of some other German 
court. But two years had since passed, and no such pros- 
pect had been held out to him. Since the beginning of the 
second, he had repeatedly urged his wife to join him, but in 
vain. Theodora was good, and loved her husband ; but, with- 
out character, and entirely helpless without her mother, she 
really believed she could not live without her. The parents 
knew how their favorite would suffer among strangers. They 
did not urge her to stay, for they felt that it was her duty to 
go, but they found a thousand excuses for her remaining. 
At one time Theodora’s delicate constitution could not bear 
the summer heat of St. Petersburg ; at another, winter was 
so near that it was better to wait till spring. Now, one of 
the children was sick, and then the president’s birth-day 
came in the way, and it seemed too hard that she should not 
join in the celebration of this festal day — alas ! perhaps the 
last — on which the whole family would assemble with flowers 
and songs ! In short, the second winter had gone, and The- 
odora still found the separation as impossible as two years 
before. 

In this cheerful, affectionate family -circle, Heloise had 
passed many an hour of true enjoyment. She had been pro- 
nounced a particular favorite of the old lady, which was, in 
itself, a sufficient reason for her to be treated with marked 
attention by the whole family. But what gave them, secretly, 
an additional interest in Heloise’s eyes, was just that circum- 
stance which they looked upon as a decided misfortune — their 
connection with Bussia. For Rosen had formerly, during 
his military life, been very intimate with her father ; his 
mother-in-law recollected distinctly having heard him speak 
of Count Staden — she could repeat several anecdotes from 
the Persian war, and although this acquaintance dated back 
to days long gone by, for Rosen had spent ten years in Ger- 


IIELOISE. 


115 


many, yet it gave her the only opportunity which she had, to 
hear her father, or her uncle, as she called him, spoken of, 
and spoken of with interest. 

From this family Heloise one day received a message, 
urging her to come to them. She went immediately. With 
surprise she saw several trunks standing in the hall. She 
was shown to the Baroness Rosen’s room. Here too, half- 
packed trunks met her eye, every thing was lying about in 
confusion, some of Theodora’s sisters were occupied in fold- 
ing dresses and pinning up bundles. Theodora herself lay 
on the sofa, bathed in tears, with her head on her mother’s 
lap, while the latter was soothing and comforting her. A 
letter from Rosen had been received that morning, in which 
he urged and insisted on Theodora’s joining him. He had 
also written to the president, and asked, with some bitterness, 
whether it was right to deprive him of his wife, of his chil- 
dren. He had been appointed governor of one of the east- 
ern provinces, was obliged to go there towards the middle of 
May, and entreated his wife, if she had the least love for 
him, to take immediate advantage of the sleighing in the 
Baltic provinces for her journey, in order to find him still in 
St. Petersburg. If she were to lose this opportunity, she 
would have to wait several months for the commencement of 
steam-navigation, and then travel through the interior of 
Russia alone. The letter was written with the greatest ten- 
derness, and yet with the authority of a husband. Theodora 
was dissolved in tears, for her parents had decided that she 
ought to go. 

Heloise, in spite of the sincere interest which she felt, 
could hardly suppress a smile when she had heard all, for her 
first thought, when she saw such universal grief, had been 
that Rosen was dying, and that his wife was preparing to 
bid him a last farewell. She felt that even domestic 
affection can be carried to excess in undisciplined minds. 


116 


HELOISE. 


Theodora wept and sobbed. “ Man and woman shall leave 
father and mother, and cleave unto each other,” said the 
mother, in broken accents. The sisters, frequently inter- 
rupted in their occupations by their tears, every now and 
then took up Theodora’s little boy, who was running about 
among the trunks, or the youngest from the nurse’s arms, to 
cover them with tears and caresses. “ Poor, dear children !” 
said one aunt, with a sigh. 

“ Oh no, no,” cried Heloise, “ happy children you, who 
are going to your father ! Oh ! a father’s arms are the safest 
resting-place ! I wish that I, like you, could go to my father — 
to my uncle, I mean, who supplies a father’s place to me !” 

Theodora started up : “ And why cannot you?” she cried. 
“ Make this journey with me, come with me to your uncle !” 

Her mother and sisters eagerly seized the idea ; “ Heloise !” 
they cried, “you are free, you are independent ! Be Theodora’s 
support, go with her !” 

The idea struck Heloise like lightning. “ Go to my fa- 
ther !” she thought, and trembled inwardly ; “Not pass that 
day, the marriage-day, here ! Not be obliged to see him stand 
at the altar with another !” 

All were pressing her. The mother looked at her with an 
expression of tenderness and trust, and said : “ Heloise, it 
would be a real comfort to me if I could know that this child — 
for she is but a child, with her inexperience and helpless- 
ness — was making this dreaded journey by your side, leaning 
on you !” 

“ But I do not know where my uncle is. Perhaps on the 
Turkish frontier. How should I find him ?” 

“ Bosen will settle that !” replied the eldest sister ; “ per- 
haps you will find him in St. Petersburgh ; and if not, one can 
travel quickly in Russia. At any rate, you can hear some- 
thing of him there.” 

“ Bosen will see about it all. He will let your uncle know 


HELOISE. 


117 


that you are in the country; perhaps he is stationed near 
Rosen’s government,” said another. 

“Ah, Heloise !” sighed the mother, “ if you would hut do it !” 

“Ah, Heloise!” cried Theodora, “do not turn me out into 
the world all alone. What is to become of my children? How 
can I take care of them, when my head is so confused, my 
heart so crushed ?” 

Heloise looked pityingly at the little ones. “Well, then,” 
she cried, “ I will go with you. And not only,” she added, 
somewhat ashamed, when all were overwhelming her with 
thanks, “ to do you a service, my poor Theodora ; I go besides, 
to seek my uncle. I also need a support in this world.” 

Heloise’s decision had effected a wonderful change in Theo- 
dora’s present mood. The horses were ordered for the next 
morning at an early hour, and it was agreed upon that the 
baroness should be at Madame von Pollwitz’s door with the 
carriage at five o’clock, when Heloise promised to be ready. 

Our heroine hurried home. It was three o’clock, about 
the dinner hour ; how should she inform her kind hostess of 
her wild scheme? “ What will she, what will Isabella think of 
my going away now, during Felix’s absence? And he? Oh! 
hence — only away from here — I will not, I cannot see him 
again, before I can tell him frankly : Felix, I am not your 
sister, but I have a sister’s heart for you !” 

She was much relieved to find, on arriving at home, that 
Madame von Pollwitz had gone to dine with an old friend 
who lived out of town, and would not be back before nine or 
ten o’clock at night. “ Thus Isabella will not learn any thing 
of my plan, either,” thought Heloise ; “ I have often found 
it hard enough to meet her penetrating eye with composure. 
Perhaps she would have informed Angern of it, and my sud- 
den decision would have led him to a declaration which I am 
so glad to avoid.” 

Another difficult thing was to tell Lisette of her inten- 


118 


HELOISE. 


tions ; particularly as the size of Theodora’s carriage would 
not admit of her taking the poor girl, her friend from her 
childhood, with her. Lisette could hardly be comforted, 
and only the confidence which Heloise placed in her, by 
giving her the charge of all she left behind, consoled her 
in a measure. A trunk of moderate size was soon filled 
with the most necessary things. Every thing else Lisette 
was to pack up carefully, and, after Felix’s return, take it 
to Waldeck, where Heloise, after consulting with her, 
promised to provide for her maintenance. She then 
gave the weeping girl many a commission with regard to 
her mother’s grave, and all her favorite spots, and a thou- 
sand messages for her beloved, venerable friend, the excel- 
lent pastor. Lastly, she sent Lisette to a banker with whom 
she was acquainted, to get a few hundred dollars — which, mod- 
erate in her expenses as she had J>een, she had easily saved 
from her pin-money — exchanged for Russian coin. 

When she was left alone, she seated herself before her 
writing-desk, and wrote Isabella a letter, in which she beg- 
ged a thousand pardons for her sudden departure without 
bidding her farewell, and at last disclosed her relation to 
Felix. She felt that she owed this to Isabella — if she had 
but done it at first, how differently would all things have 
turned out ! She used few words — gave expression to none 
of her inmost feelings ; she knew that Isabella would com- 
prehend them but too easily. u I am going now to my father,” 
she wrote ; “ he has loved and suffered — he will not repulse 
his child. Heaven bless you, Isabella, you white rose — did 
not Angern once call you so ? — and all the lovely buds on 
I the mother-stem ! All the happiness that I have felt since 
my mother’s death, I owe to you, my Isabella, and to An- 
gern ! Oh ! happy will be the woman who, guided by him, 
can learn the way to the noblest, the true aim of life. But 
he deserves an undivided heart. A heart cannot suffice him, 


HELOISE. 


119 


which, by all the fibres of its existence, is interwoven with a 
third. Oh ! preserve your friendship for me, beloved ones — 
you have both strong hearts — do not be angry, do not despise 
me, for my cowardly flight !” 

Then, with a thousand tears, she wrote the following letter 
to Felix : — 

My beloved Felix — I know you will be alarmed when 
you hear that I am gone — and I myself am alarmed at the 
thought of leaving you, the oldest friend of my life, so with- 
out farewell, and perhaps for ever. For a strange, desolate 
land lies before me, dark like my future. But I cannot 
await your return. The Groenaus urge me to accompany 
the Baroness Rosen to Russia, and I take this opportunity 
to go in search of my uncle — my father ! 

Yes, my beloved brother ! — for I know you will still re- 
main my brother , when I tell you that I am not your own 
sister, but that Count Staden is my father, that the Princess 
Antonia was my mother. Forgive me for withholding these 
last lines of a beloved hand, which I inclose, from you for so 
long. You had already decided differently, dearest brother. 
If you had learnt your mother’s last wish before, it would 
only have made you unhappy, without your having been able 
to fulfil it ; for man is not master over his own heart. And 
besides, our beloved mother would never have formed this 
wish, had she been aware that you had already chosen. Do 
not blame me, therefore, for not having spoken before. And 
do not be angry that I go away ; you have found a heart — 
my father, too, must need one. Perhaps he will not reject 
that of his poor Heloise ! God bless you, Felix ! Think 
sometimes of Waldeck; think of the years of our childhood, 
Felix, and do not forget your orphan sister 


u Heloise . 1 


120 


HELOISE. 


She had written the letter over three times already — her 
overflowing heart had each time betrayed itself. At last it 
seemed cold enough. In a postscript she begged him to give 
Lisette the post of a teacher of needle-work in her dear 
school in Waldeck, and to take charge of the farther support 
of the faithful girl. 

At ten o’clock, Madame von Pollwitz at last returned. 
Heloise dreaded the meeting. How ungrateful was she 
towards her mother’s early friend, for the hospitality which 
she had so long shown her ! And she had always been ac- 
customed to honor the advice of old age. She went to meet 
her hostess ; and the latter had hardly laid off her hat and 
cloak, and was kindly making many excuses, for having run 
away from her without letting her know any thing about it, 
when Heloise interrupted her, by saying, while she embraced 
her, and laid her head on her shoulder : “ I have to ask your 
forgiveness for a much greater offence, my dear motherly 
friend. What will you think of me when I bid you good-by 
this evening, and leave you early to-morrow morning ?” 

The old lady hardly believed her ears. Heloise’s caresses 
diminished her displeasure. For her the pressing requests 
of the Groenau family had to account for this sudden decision. 

“ But your brother ?” she inquired. 

“ He does not need me for the present,” replied Heloise, 
with averted face. 

“ But how will you come back ?” — in short, the good lady 
had so much to object, so many questions to ask, and did 
this with such maternal solicitude — for she had become very 
much attached to Heloise during the six months that she 
had been with her — that the poor girl, in tears, at length re- 
ferred her to her letter to Isabella, well knowing that her 
friend would honor her delicacy. At length they took a 
tender farewell. 

Heloise had to promise that she would come to her old 


HELOISE. 


121 


friend’s bed once more in the morning. But when, after a 
tearful, sleepless night, the next morning, while the carriage 
was waiting for her, she entered the bedroom of her hostess, 
she found her in a sound, refreshing morning slumber. She 
approached the bed ; the venerable face, with the pale, sunken 
cheeks, and the deep, old-fashioned cap, reminded her so pain- 
fully of her departed foster-mother. Her heart was ready to 
break. She imprinted one kiss on the hand of her sleeping 
friend, and then threw herself into the travelling-carriage 
which was to bear her into the wide, dreary world. 

6 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE JOURNEY. 

Our heroine could certainly not expect much pleasure from 
a winter-journey with a spoilt young creature who was for 
ever sighing for her mother’s lap, and nearly as helpless 
as the two children, who soon accustomed themselves to de- 
pend more on Heloise than on mamma. Neither Theodora 
nor the nurse had ever before been at any distance from the 
capital. The lady found the food at the inns hardly eatable, 
the beds horrid ; handkerchiefs were pinned over every pil- 
low, and every article touched with finger-ends. The nurse 
imitated her lady in all things ; for she found Theodora’s dis- 
contentedness much more genteel than Heloise’s endeavors 
to look at every thing in the best light. 

The latter, heavy as was her heart, tried to divert Theo- 
dora, and to waken in her a sense not only of what she owed 
to her husband, who had always showed her the greatest kind- 
ness, but also of what she owed to herself ; but her success 
was small. She was more fortunate, however, in acquiring a 
decided influence over the boy. Hitherto, by the unreasonable- 
ness of his mother, who was not too tender, but too weak to 
administer punishment herself, the child had looked upon his 
absent father in the light of a bugbear. But now he was told 
about poor papa, who had so long wanted to see his Fritz. 
Instead of hearing, as before, whenever he was naughty, 
“ Just wait till father comes — he’ll punish vou for it hard 


HELOISE. 


123 


enough !” the hope was now, for the first time, held out to 
him, of soon riding on papa’s knee, and he was urged to he 
very good, so as to make dear papa, who longed for him so, 
and who had prayed for him so often, very happy. Now and 
then, to he sure, Theodora would put in a hitter word, such 
as : “ If his love for his children were really disinterested, 
he might have let them stay with their grandparents, where 
they were better off than any where else !” Her husband 
seemed to her a savage, since he had separated her from her 
family. 

The journey was of great advantage to Heloise, in sub- 
jecting her to cares which were entirely new to her, and there- 
fore diverted her mind. For, after the first attempt to keep 
the accounts herself, which had for consequence the loss of a 
considerable sum of money, Theodora put all the funds into 
Heloise’s hands, because, as she said, her heart was too much 
crushed to enable her to think of such matters — and Heloise 
therefore, with the help of a faithful servant, arranged all the 
affairs of the journey. She fixed the time for starting, or- 
dered the horses, hurried Theodora, waked the children, and 
assisted in dressing them. Consequently she felt not a little re- 
lieved when they at length beheld the imperial city stretched 
out before them. Theodora’s heart, by degrees, as she ap- 
proached nearer and nearer to her long-absent husband, had 
softened towards him a little. She longed for a new support. 

(/ Now we’ll soon be with father,” she and the nurse said to the 
children. “ And I too ?” thought Heloise with a sigh. 

During the journey she had had time to think over the 
strangeness of her plan. Could not her father be in a part 
of the country where she would not be able to reach him ? 
The last time that she had heard about him, he was in Gru- 
sinia, but expecting soon to be called away again. She could 
not endure the idea of having to remain with Baroness Rosen. 
And what if her father did not approve of her coming? If 


124 


HELOISE. 


he was to blame her for coming to him without waiting for 
his permission ? 

Rosen’s happiness when he embraced his wife and chil- 
dren — one of the latter, the little delicate creature which had 
come into the world only after his departure, completely recon- 
ciled Theodora’s tender heart to her fate, for the present. 
From a letter of the president’s, which had anticipated the tra- 
vellers, Rosen knew already that Heloise was of the party. But 
he was not a little astonished when she informed him of her 
intention to go to her uncle, Count Staden. 

“ You have romantic ideas, my dear young lady,” said the 
baron, with a compassionate smile. u Count Staden is station- 
ed near the Caucasus.” 

“ Is that inaccessible to me ?” inquired Heloise. 

11 1 doubt whether it is just the place for delicate young 
ladies. You would find but poor accommodations in your 
uncle’s camp.” 

“ I am satisfied with little.” 

“ Even with a suttler’s tent ?” 

u Why not, if my uncle takes up with that of a soldier ?” 

“ Will you not perhaps put on page’s attire, and enlist, 
my fair young lady?” 

Thus the practical man laughed at what he took for a 
romantic caprice. Such enthusiasm seemed too singular in a 
niece. He thought that there must be a lover in the case. But 
he probed here and there, and could not discover any thing 
where there was in fact nothing to discover. Heloise could 
not induce him to make inquiries about an opportunity for 
her to go to the Caucasus. “ It would be against my con- 
science,” he said, “ to assist you in such a piece of folly.” 

Heloise, deeply hurt, begged him, upon this, at least to 
make her acquainted with the ambassador of her sovereign, 
so that she might apply to him. Rosen started for the am- 
bassador’s immediately. 


HELOISE. 


125 


When he returned the expression of his countenance was 
entirely changed: “Would you like to hear something new 
from your country?” he inquired. Dispatches have been 
received to-day: — your prince is dead. From what the 
ambassador has just disclosed to me, that makes some differ- 
ence in your affair. He will call on you to-morrow.” 

Heloise’s eyes fell. The ambassador had always been the 
confidant of the prince royal. He, as indeed not a few in 
Heloise’s country, had long been in the secret. She could 
not feel any love for a grandfather who had disowned her, 
and recognized with gratitude the happy turn which her des- 
tiny had taken. She hoped that what was looked upon as 
an extravagancy in the niece, would, in the daughter , be al- 
lowed as an act of filial affection. 

When the ambassador called on her the next morning, 
the affair was openly spoken of. He was too well acquainted 
with the views of his new sovereign, to find farther secrecy 
necessary. He too, at first, attempted to dissuade her from 
making the journey, at least until she had heard from her 
father, and offered, as the Rosens were obliged to leave in a 
few days, and he himself had no family, to procure accommo- 
dations for her at a friend’s house meanwhile. Heloise con- 
sented, though reluctantly, and concluded to write to her 
father immediately. But as the mail to that part of the 
country went only twice a week, three days must yet elapse 
before she could send her letter, and at least four sad weeks 
before she could hope for an answer. 

The first of these delays was of advantage to her, for on 
the second morning Rosen came home with pleasant news. 
“ Perseverance brings success, fair countess ! For, besides a 
daughter, a mother too has been found, who wants to go 
among the Circassians. Princess Gawriloff, a lady from the 
provinces, has been here for some time to obtain information 
with regard to her son, who is fighting under your father 


126 


HELOISE. 


against the wild hordes of the Caucasus. She has now at 
last found out that he is wounded, and wants to go there to 
take care of him. She is a bore and a fool, but good enough 
to lend you her wing on the journey. She is very willing to 
give the daughter of the great general a seat in her travel- 
ling-carriage, and one of her maids to wait upon her. Well, 
you really look as if you were glad to get away from us, 
countess ! Can you be ready by to-morrow morning ?” 

“ At any moment, when I am going to my father,” re- 
plied Heloise, joyfully. 

And the next morning she was really seated in the travel- 
ling-carriage, and her poor heart, which of late had threatened 
to burst with excitement and suspense, began to beat more 
calmly. Was she not now going directly towards her aim, 
which, the nearer she approached to it, seemed to lose more 
and more of its wildness. So far her breast had been filled 
but with the one feeling of wounded, disappointed love, and 
the fervent wish of freeing herself from inward humiliation ; 
but now a gentle joy entered, her heart, healing and soothing 
it, as she drew near the fulfilment of her long-cherished wish, 
to rest in the arms of her father, of her beloved, banished 
father, whom she had never yet seen ! 

It was beneficial to her that this thought took, as it were, 
possession of her soul, for her present situation did not pro- 
mise the poor child much enjoyment. The prospect of pass- 
ing at least twelve or thirteen days and nights with two 
elderly women, who were strangers to her, with whom she 
could not speak a word, and neither of whom could under- 
stand what she said — confined in a close travelling-coach, 
with green silk curtains let down before the windows, on ac- 
count of the poor mother’s weak eyes — was certainly not a 
consoling one. By Heloise’s side sat the princess ; a gaunt, 
stooping figure, with a yellow, dried up face, with features, 
sharp, yet without character, a sunken mouth with a few 


HELOISE. 


127 


teeth, totally ruined by the national habit of painting, with 
eyes that were thickly swollen and had lost their brilliancy 
from incessant weeping ; hardly above middle age, but, from 
a long life in the country, in the midst of inferiors, who were 
dependent on her slightest wish, long since out of the habit of 
paying any attention to her looks and manners ; her outward 
appearance much more like a peevish old crone from the 
lower classes than like a noble lady of some fifty years. But in 
disposition the princess belonged entirely to her rank, for hers 
was one of those narrow souls, which, possessed from child- 
hood of the most undisturbed selfishness, using every thing 
around them as a tool, never have the most distant idea that 
they too are only one of the millions of wheels in the vast 
machinery which directs the course of the whole world. She 
had never thought of the possibility — not even when for a 
passing moment in church sometimes, the u Lord have mercy” 
of the choristers, crying to heaven, penetrated her nerves — 
that she was created for any other object than to dress her- 
self, take her meals, make visits, and play cards ; a species of 
woman which, with such hardened selfishness, is hardly to be 
found any where but in the higher classes. 

She had grown up on the estates of her noble parents, in 
the government of Kostroma, surrounded by serfs, four of 
which, two waiting-maids and two playmates, her mother made 
her a present of when she was five years old, with the permis- 
sion to do with them whatever she liked, and the strict in- 
junction to the four girls not by any means to irritate the 
little Highness, who was very weak and delicate, by contradic- 
tion ; as anger was injurious to her health. The girls thought, 
u It will be easy enough to get along with a child, if we only 
keep it in good humor by flattery, and caresses, and good 
things stolen from the cook.” They consequently used every 
means to accomplish this end, without thereby escaping the 
experience that the little hands of the countess, as she grew 


128 


HELOISE. 


up, could not only distribute boxes on tbe ear, and ber deli- 
cate little feet bestow kicks, just as well as tbe more powerful 
ones of ber lady mother, but that sbe was, besides, a proficient 
in scratching, pinching, and biting. Children are tbe most 
cruel tyrants of all. 

Tbe Princess Grawriloff bad, however, been married as 
young as any Russian Miss ; although, in consequence of tbe 
torturing ennui in which she grew up, not as young, by far? 
as she would have wished. For had she not, since her eleventh 
year, on every Sylvester night, melted lead,* in company with 
her confidential maids, and, a few minutes before midnight, 
placed herself in expectation, between two mirrors, in order to 
see, in the one before her, when the last strokes of the bell were 
proclaiming the parting of the old year, the features of her 
future husband shining out from the glass to which her back 
was turned? And had not wise women, in the presence of 
her mother, laid cards for her to find out her future fate ? 
Had not her nurse, from her earliest childhood, taken her 
every year, in the Christmas holidays, into the large u black 
room,”f where all the maids of the house were seated around 
the covered dish, singing “platter ditties,” J and put her 
pawns in with theirs? And how anxiously did she not watch, 
when the prophetic song had been about “ a wedding,” or u a 
happy marriage,” or u a noble husband,” to see whether the 
decisive grasp would not bring out one of her pawns ! 

When she was fifteen, the age when her parents also 

* To judge from the forms which the melted lead takes when 
poured into water, what her fortune would be. 

f “ The black room” is the name for the servants’ room in Russia. 

j: Another mode of telling fortunes. Each puts one or more ar- 
ticles into the covered dish, and after every “ Pobljudnaja pjessna ” or 
“ platter ditty,” an appointed person pulls a pawn from under the co- 
ver. The subject of the song immediately preceding tells the owner 
her fortune. 


HELOISE. 


129 


thought it desirable for her to marry, her father took her to the 
capital of the province, where the noblemen of the neighborhood 
were wont to assemble to sell the produce of their flocks, and, 
besides this, those who had daughters, to look for suitors, and 
those who were single, for wives. Katharina Michailowna 
appeared here for the first time in public, painted, as usual, 
red, but to-day, on her introduction into the circle of ladies, 
also white, at the grand ball which the lady of the governor 
gave for the assembled nobility. Prince Gawriloff, after having 
spent his whole fortune during a few years of dissipation and 
extravagance as captain of the Semenoff Guards, and saved 
nothing but a small estate with 500 souls, # had just returned 
home to mend his faithless fortune by an advantageous match. 
The brilliant green uniform, the blue collar with silver embroi- 
dery and border, his breast adorned with the Wladimir-cross 
and the fourth class order of St. Anne, his wasp-like, tightly- 
laced waist — all this was enough to delight the fair Kostro- 
mians. 

Katharina Michailowna was the richest of all that were 
being exhibited on this occasion, and therefore the most for- 
tunate. A dowry of 2000 souls, with a reversion of 20,000, 
was certainly not to be despised. 

The count was easily persuaded ; the only thing which did 
not please the parents, was that the prince intended to leave 
the army, so that their daughter would never be any thing but 
a captain’s wife ; for the Russians from the interior think much 
less of a nobility of many centuries’ standing, than of the offi- 
cial rank which the emperor bestows. The prince, however, 
whose views had been somewhat Europeanized in St. Peters- 
burg, insisted upon being nothing but a free country-noble- 
man. In a few months 1 500 of the 2000 souls of his wife’s dowry 

* The usual mode of valuing property in Russia is by the number 
of souls, which means the male serfs. 

6 * 


130 


HELOISE. 


had been lost at play to the neighboring noblemen. Now came 
a hard time. The count could not be induced to give more 
during his lifetime — the strictest economy was necessary. 
The remaining 1000 souls had to work and to pay for the lost 
1500. And does not the proverb say, besides : 1 a rich peasant 
is like a horned ox?’* The princess, at her emoroidery-frame 
or laying patience , at home, or at the whist-table during the 
visits to and from the neighboring ladies, did not have much , 
to remind her of the change ; she had always horses enough 
left to take her on her round of visits, enough persons to help 
her in the annual sewings and preservings, to flatter her, and 
for her to vent her ill-humor upon. 

But the princess was a woman. She had, besides a head 
whose emptiness she was not aware of, also an empty heart, 
which she longed to fill. Five young boys she had seen pine 
away, one after the other, in spite of all the medicine of the 
German district-physician, (notwithstanding that he had been 
one of the most skilful barber’s apprentices in Goettingen,) and 
in defiance of all sympathetic cures of the wise women of the 
village. She had shed many, many tears over them, and 
adorned the pink coffins of the little darlings with wreaths 
and mourning-crowns. For she loved these little parts of 
herself as much as was in her power. They had given her so 
little trouble ! The nurses had suckled them, and washed 
and dressed them, and sung them to sleep, and, oh, joy ! one 
or the other had already learned to cross himself, and to call 
Maminlca , f when he was brought into his mother’s room on 
the arm of his Njdnka.\ She thought she had a right to 
murmur against Providence for having treated her so unjust- 
ly ; she became morose, and nothing could satisfy her. ^ 

But, after a long time, the good God, who has compassion 
on folly as well as on sin, gave her another child, a strong, 

* Russian proverb. f Mamma. f Nurse. 


HELOISE. 


131 


beautiful boy, his parents’ pride. He was again called Alex- 
ander, after the emperor ; a name which already three of his 
brothers had borne. For their mother had only loved her 
children in them, not the lost individuals. She called every 
new-born boy Alexander again, in the hope of thus being 
enabled to forget the preceding one in the new one. The boy 
grew up, worshipped by the whole household. There was no 
sacrifice that was not made for the little screamer, to pacify 
him, no vessel so costly but what he might dash it to pieces, 
no headdress of the maids so carefully arranged but what he 
might pull it down. When he was three years old, the whole 
neighborhood talked about the little house-tyrant ; and the 
nurses and waiting-maids, in spite of all the injunctions which 
they received, to hold their young master in high respect, 
began to complain now and then, that u Prince Sashinka* 
deigned to slap rather too hard.” 

When the boy was eight years old, Prince Gawriloff died, 
who, in spite of his tenderness, sometimes, in cases where the 
interests of father and son crossed each other, held the reins 
rather tight. The sponsors and friends now insisted on 
having Sasha placed among the cadet-corps at St. Peters- 
burg ; and what Russian mother would not have her ambi- 
tion satisfied, by seeing her darlings, under the emperor’s 
supreme direction, grow up to be his personal servants ? But 
neither the princess, nor Marfa the nurse, could part with 
Sasha. The district-school and a Herman tutor, who had come 
to Russia as valet to a Kasan professor, completed his edu- 
cation. All the boundless selfishness of the princess had, 
as it were, dissolved in him, who, in a measure, was a conti- 
nuation of herself — and was transferred from her past to 
her future, of which the boy was the representative. He let 
her pursue her course, without paying much attention to it ; 

* Sashinka, Sasha, Russian diminutives for Alexander. 


132 


HELOISE. 


but if she had withheld this his right from him, he would 
have been angry enough, for with his mother’s selfishness, he 
united his father’s passionate temper. 

In his eighteenth year, just when the daring Circassians 
gave much occasion to be talked about, he suddenly declared 
that he too would go the Caucasus ; that he would be a ca- 
valry officer, and show the rebels, who were so proud of their 
riding and shooting, that a Russian could ride and shoot as 
well as they. Vain were the mother’s tears, vain those of 
the faithful nurse, whose shrewd arguments and subtle flat- 
tery had many a time kept the wild boy from some piece of 
folly ; for, as the indefatigable assistant and adviser of the 
princess, she had brought him up and spoiled him with her. 

“ Stay at home, Golubushka she said, caressingly, “ ‘in 
the sun it is warm, and with his mother a son is well off ;’f 
where can you be more comfortable than at home, where 
your will, after God’s, is obeyed by all ? Listen to me, JDe- 
dushka,X to your old nurse ! ‘The nightingale is small, but 
her voice is loud !’ All in vain ! Sasha had long since 
become not only the pet, but also the tyrant of the two 
loving women. And in this case he had perhaps chosen the 
best part. 

The nurse was the first to become resigned to unavoid- 
able necessity. “ What good does it do ?” she said ; “ have 
not our wise ancestors already said : ‘ My son is mine, but 
the wisdom that he possesses, is his ?’ ” J| — and when the 
princess saw her darling in his splendid uniform, that was so 
becoming to him, and friends and neighbors came from more 
than a hundred wersts IF off, to see him in it, and to admire 
his excellent riding, she too was reconciled to her loss. 


* Little dove, 
f Russian proverb. 

1 Little grandfather. 


§ Russian proverb. 

|j Russian proverb. 

H Werst, a Russian mile. 


HELOISE. 


133 


As an imperial officer, Sasha had of a sudden become 
much more genteel than all the country-nobility of the go- 
vernment of Kostroma. Even the district-marshal, who, 
before this, had hardly concealed his contempt of the young 
prince Gawriloff, and on some appropriate occasion had even 
hinted something about a bearded darling boy, grew exceed- 
ingly polite all at once, and wished him joy for his honor- 
able career. 

Now there was a general sewing and wadding of satin 
under-jackets, to ward off the treacherous balls — a universal 
packing of trunks and valises. This afforded some employ- 
ment. And if now and then a few maternal tears would 
flow, the good nurse, with her vivid imagination and sym- 
pathy, soon managed to dry them. “ Be still, be still, Du- 
shinka she consoled her ; u God be praised, many a one 
escapes without a scratch, even. And may he not be made 
a general ? May he not get the cross of the order of St. 
George ; or that of St. Wladimir, like Stephen Platonowitsh, 
who is for ever fingering the ribbon that hangs from his but- 
ton-hole % And is it so very certain that he will fight in any 
battles ? Can they not just as well use him among the re- 
serve ? And is not our lord the emperor, God bless him, 
going there too, to see if the troops are doing every thing 
right ? And will not our Sasha get acquainted with him 
then, and is not the happiness of his subjects in his hands 1 
And if the emperor, God be with him, comes there himself, 
the rebels will soon surrender ! And then there’ll be peace, 
and our Sasha will come back with his breast all full of badges 
of different orders. What do you think, Katharina Michai- 
lowna, what will Natalia Kyrillowna say, who has so often 
talked against the dear fiery young blood ? And Proskovia 
Andrewna, will she not grow green with envy, because her 


* Little soul. 


134 


HELOISE. 


Misha has been in service so long, and cannot come to any 
thing ?” 

These and other similar consolatory arguments necessa- 
rily had the desired effect. And when, before long, the first 
letter came, announcing the darling’s safe arrival in the 
camp, the whole house was in ecstasies. The princess, in 
honor of the happy festival, ordered double Sunday-portions 
of brandy to be distributed among her people. She then 
seated herself at the window, and the reeling of the drunken 
men and women, and the blessings which were showered 
upon her and her son from their lips, made her laugh for the 
first time since Sasha’s departure. But month after month 
passed, and no second letter arrived. The princess, after 
some trouble, had succeeded in procuring one of the five 
copies of the u St. Petersburg Gazette,” that went the rounds 
in the government of Kostroma : there they were given in 
full, the long pompous reports of glorious victories, gained 
by the never yet vanquished Russian arms ; of the submis- 
siveness of the Abazaks, and the faithful attachment of the 
Kabardines. But among these there crept in now and then 
a dark rumor of fallen thousands, of fortifications surren- 
dered, of overfilled hospitals. In vain the faithful nurse laid 
her prophetic cards morning and evening, seated by the bed- 
side of the princess ; there was no luck in them, as she had 
to confess, shaking her head — the knave of hearts always 
lay at the bottom, as if he was buried ; and the knave of 
spades, the black rascal ! was always on top of him. 

And dreams, dreams ! What Russian woman could doubt 
the truth of their oracles ? Long wedding-trains passed be- 
fore the poor mother with songs and rejoicings, as she tossed 
about in a feverish slumber on her bed. The nurse one night 
saw her whole lap full of pearls, but they all disappeared 
when she awoke. The gold wedding-ring slipped from the 
wasted fingers of the princess every night — though to be sure, 


HELOISE. 


135 


the same thing often happened by day. Who does not know 
that all these doleful phenomena indicate death ? 

Thus harassed by anxiety and care, the energetic Marfa 
at length prevailed upon the princess to go to St. Petersburg 
herself, there to gather information from the first sources. 
“ ‘A fair demand brings a fair answer,’ says the proverb,” she 
urged. In Russia one can travel quickly even without rail- 
roads. Still, it was no small undertaking for a country lady 
advanced in years, who had never yet quitted her province, 
to make a journey of more than a thousand wersts , for the 
object of obtaining, if possible, a chance to look at papers, 
the long lists of the dead and wounded contained in which, 
would only have given the public an unnecessary acquaint- 
ance with the real state of things. 

Fortunately the princess, as well as Marfa, knew the key 
which, for ages past, has opened the doors of all Russian cabi- 
nets — that of the minister of the war-department, as well as 
any other. 

“ Have rather hundred friends than hundred roubles”* 
was the advice of the shrewd old nurse.- A pocket-book 
well filled with bank-notes, was therefore of great service to 
the princess. 

In St. Petersburg, Prince Alexander’s silence was soon 
explained to his poor anxious friends. He was in the hospi- 
tal at Jekaterinodar, with his right arm broken, and ill of 
the typhus fever. 

“Now’s the time, God be praised! Katharina Michail- 
owna !” cried Marfa, with tears and sobs. “ We must go and 
take care of our Sasha ! God be praised for leaving my limbs 
whole, so that I can now bind up his poor, dear, beautiful 
arm. No quack of a doctor shall touch him! God forbid! 
Thank God for putting it into my stupid head to take the 
Kluckwa jelly along ! That will refresh him !” 

* Russian proverb. 


136 


HELOISE. 


So saying, her words interrupted by sobs, she busied 
herself in packing, and giving orders. The princess let her 
have her own way in every thing. Alarm had completely 
paralyzed her already listless, dull disposition. Before she 
knew it, she was in the travelling-carriage, half blind from 
weeping incessantly for several months. Heloise was moved 
with deep pity as she looked at the poor stricken mother. 
But there was something in that face, shrivelled up and dis- 
torted by grief, that repulsed her. She felt that her com- 
panion had exhausted her whole power of loving in her 
child ; that this dried up soul might perhaps pay a certain 
polite attention to the daughter of the commanding general, 
but that she would not take the slightest interest in her as a 
stranger. 

If Heloise, in moments of retrospection (and how often 
did these occur on her long, tedious journey !) gave way to 
her sad emotions, and tear after tear rolled down her lovely 
cheeks, the princess was vexed. “ What sorrows can that 
young thing have ?” she would say. “ Is she not going to her 
father, who is now the most powerful man in New Russia, 
and where she will be treated like a queen ?” 

Indeed, no grief seemed to her to be reasonable but her 
own, and to talk of any thing in her presence but Sasha’s 
wound, appeared to her a sort of arrogance. But if Heloise, 
after the happy manner of youth, happened to forget herself, 
and laugh at the capers of the village children who ran 
along by their carriage, or when, in the Whitsuntide holidays, 
which occurred during their journey, they stopped before a 
village inn, and she put back one of the green silk curtains, 
in order to amuse herself with looking at the graceful dances 
and ingenious games of the peasants, that was still worse. 
“ Yes, she can well laugh,” the princess thought in such 
cases ; “ she has no son to weep for ! She need not care 
whether my Sasha lives or dies. That is my reward for 


HELOISE. 


137 


allowing myself to be persuaded to take such a young thing 
along with me !” 

Far differently did the good nurse, as she sat opposite the 
princess, look upon our young traveller, from out of her nar- 
row grayish-blue eyes. There was a mixture of cunning and 
good-nature in that broad, fat, bloated face — to which a flat 
nose and thick lips imparted a disagreeable impress of nation- 
ality — that gave it a pleasing expression of vivacity. 

Of middling height, but considerable circumference, she 
looked right stately, with her Sarafan of dark blue with 
gold borders, her snow-white under-shirt gathered in narrow 
bands around the neck and wrists, and the richly embroider- 
ed Kakoshnika on her head. For no prospect of the burn- 
ing sun of the Caucasus could have induced her to exchange 
this splendid headdress for a travelling-hat. If she had left 
off any article of her nurse’s-costume, she might have been 
taken, on the journey, for one of the lower maids who follow- 
ed the carriage of the princess in the - Sritshka in which 
her bedding and the greater part of her travelling-equipage 
were conveyed. 

Marfa had nursed, besides the living Prince Gawriloff, 
two of the deceased children of the princess, and was there- 
fore held in threefold respect in the family. The foster- 
brothers of the little princes, of which the eldest was ascribed 
to the father of the latter, without exciting the least jealousy 
on the part of his wife, all served on the manor, were 
treated with much consideration, received presents on their 
own name-days* and those of their noble foster-brothers, and 
were free from military service. 

Marfa was the tenderest of mothers ; whether she loved 
her idol, Alexander Borissowitsh, still more than her own 

* It is the custom in Russia for every one to celebrate their 
“name-day” or day of their patron saint. 


138 


HELOISE. 


children, is uncertain ; enough that she was shrewd enough to 
show more affection for him ; for the fate of her children de- 
pended in a measure on her love for her young master. 

For twenty-seven years past she had been the confidant 
of the princess, and, much superior to the latter in good sense 
and character, had acquired an influence in the house, which 
far surpassed even that which the spoilt race of Russian 
nurses usually possesses. Although she could neither read 
nor write, she had yet been elevated to the position of a sort 
of housekeeper, and overseer of the servants, who fared very 
well under her rule, as it was, contrary to the usual course of 
things, milder than that of the princess. She was, however, 
rather proud of her importance, and it was an insult not soon 
to be forgiven, if any of her fellow-serfs ever were so familiar 
as to call her only Marfa, and not Marfa Pawlowna, as even 
her mistress often called her before others, to set them the 
example. 

During the journey she was continually occupied with 
the princess, while the latter was awake. She carried on her 
knees a kind of table of stiff pasteboard, which also served 
the ladies at their meals — for they were too much in haste to 
stop, although provisions were plenty — on which she laid 
out cards for the princess three times a day. And how well 
she did it ! How skilfully she mixed the ominous cards, so 
that, even if a bad sign now and then made the poor mother 
unhappy, a ray of hope would always gleam forth soon after. 
At other times the princess would lay patience , for which 
purpose the pasteboard table was moved to her lap, while 
the nurse talked to her and gossipped about the places which 
they had just left. If at last the mistress leaned back in a 
corner to take a nap, the ever-busy Marfa directed her whole at- 
tention to Heloise. At first, though, she was rather reserved 
towards the stranger, the daughter of the great general ; but 
Heloise’s childlike expression soon won the confidence, her 


HELOISE. 


139 


youthful beauty the admiration, and her quiet grief the kind- 
est interest of this good woman. 

Heloise could understand but a very few of the kind 
words which she directed to her, but she soon learned to dis- 
tinguish many of the charming terms of endearment in 
which the Russian language is so rich : Dushinka , Golubush- 
ka , Matushka , Mi/inka. Jachodinka — little soul, little dove, 
little mother, darling, little berry — and besides these, the 
language of kind looks was one easy to understand. She 
took the opportunity of inquiring the Russian name for every 
thing to which she could point with her finger, and Marfa 
was indefatigable in teaching her the correct pronunciation, 
good-naturedly aiding her in her attempts, and at the same 
time praising her cleverness. It really grieved her to see 
Heloise eat so little, and she pressed her all the more to par- 
take of the delicacies which they had brought with them, 
because it troubled her that the princess, in her dull indif- 
ference, entirely neglected this first duty of Russian hospi- 
tality. 

But with all Marfa’s admiration for the young German 
lady, there was still one point, on account of which she re- 
garded her with inexhaustible wonder. This was the peach- 
blossom color in Heloise’s cheeks, which, if long-concealed 
agitation of mind had blanched them a little during the last 
winter, had now, from the fresh air and the journey, regained 
their full bloom. It was so perfectly incomprehensible to 
Marfa that these roses, which would never bloom so freshly 
on any Russian bed, were not artificial, that her doubts on 
the matter often made the subject of her conversation with 
her mistress ; of which the possessor and rightful owner of the 
roses had not the slightest suspicion. It was not enough for 
her two companions to know that the journey left no time for 
an elaborate toilet, and that Heloise, besides, never left them 
for a moment. One morning Marfa, under the pretext of 


140 


HELOISE. 


wiping off some dust, commenced rubbing Ileloise’s cheek so 
violently with a towel, that the latter drew back in astonish- 
ment ; but when she saw how the curious woman, half surprised, 
and half triumphant, held the clean cloth before the eyes of 
the princess, and both looked at her with a certain degree of 
admiration, a light suddenly broke in upon her, and her whole 
face was instantly suffused with so lovely a glow of shame, that 
both her companions were forced to acknowledge themselves 
completely convinced. 

While the princess slept, the nurse would sometimes lay 
her cards to tell the fortune of Heloise, who, after several 
unsuccessful attempts to keep her from it, at last yielded, 
laughingly. Exclamations of concern, of alarm were easy to 
understand — but the fortune-teller soon seemed to console 
herself, and chuckled joyfully, when her skilful combination 
ended, as usual, with a wedding. Heloise, with girlish curi- 
osity, looked in her little travelling-companion, a Russian 
dictionary, for the often repeated words Rasboinick and Ispa- 
witel , and soon found out that she was destined to be carried 
off by a highwayman, but that a splendid officer would save 
her, and that, from gratitude, she would bestow upon him her 
hand. Heloise smiled sadly; “Never, never to any one !” she 
whispered to herself. 

Onward they travelled, day and night, for the longing of 
the princess for her son left her no rest. Heloise, always de- 
sirous to learn, would have found no small interest in the 
observation of a strange country, where every thing was new 
to her ; but the green curtains, and the great speed with which 
they travelled, did not let her see much of the scenery, which 
however, little picturesque, from its flatness, did not offer much 
attraction to the eye. They passed the lovely Waldai hills 
in the night ; in Novogorod, so full of historical associations, 
they only touched one of the suburbs, and even in mighty 
Moscow they only staid long enough to have the horses chang- 


HELOISE. 


141 


ed. And in order to have this done with the greatest possible 
haste, the princess had provided herself in St. Petersburg with 
an imperial order, which only favored personages receive, to 
let her have, without delay, the means of pursuing her journey. 

In a Kibitka , which preceded the carriage of the princess, 
there sat, besides several servants, Andrei Ossippowitsh, the 
travelling-marshal, a man whose fierce, one-eyed, pock-marked 
face, sent a shudder through Heloise the first time that she saw 
him, which feeling was increased to the strongest antipathy by 
his imperious and rough treatment of his inferiors, his slavish 
cringing towards his mistress — and particularly by the cir- 
cumstance that the serfs, she knew not why, called him the 
u beadle.” He had entered the prince’s house very young, 
had been instructed much more carefully than other favored 
serfs, in reading, writing, and arithmetic, and the great pre- 
ference which his master manifested towards him, seemed to 
justify the general supposition that he was his son. Caressed 
and abused by turns, he grew up to be the most dangerous 
tyrant to his fellow-servants. The prince had intended him 
for his steward and bailiff, and to increase his authority, 
had bought for him a place in the government-office in 
Moscow, where he had risen to the 12th class and the post 
of secretary of government, thus gaining the rank of captain, 
for which reason he was still called u Captain ” by those 
who found an advantage in treating him with particular 
politeness. 

The better to prepare him for his destination, the prince 
obtained for him, at the police of the University, the situa- 
tion of “ beadle,” which gave him an opportunity of exer- 
cising his arm to perfection in every kind of punishment. 
The prince’s servants, who were oftener reminded of this 
part of his office than of any thing else, still called him the 
beadle — a name which he bore in the whole neighborhood. 

Since the death of the prince, his authority had increased 


142 


HELOISE. 


to a high degree ; for the widow found it quite convenient to 
leave the management of all her affairs to him, and thought 
much of him, because he always spoke of Alexander as of a 
god. Particularly in St. Petersburg he had shown himself 
as an able agent, and she could not think of making the 
journey to her darling without him. And here, as at home, 
, she regarded his continual scolding and quarrelling at the 
stations and with her servants, as proofs of his zeal. 

How different was his rule from that of good old Marfa, 
the only one of the subjects whom he treated with familiar 
politeness ; for he felt very well that her influence, after all, 
was much greater than his. The circumstance that he rode 
on in advance as courier, and the horses for the three vehi- 
cles therefore mostly stood ready-harnessed when they ar- 
rived, and had only to be attached, often spared Heloise the 
knowledge of the means by which they were obtained. 
For the poor post-peasants pulled off their caps so humbly, 
and smilingly, when the carriage at length came rolling along, 
and the postilion who drove them commenced singing mer- 
rily ; the kopeks thrown to them were picked up with such 
humble thanks — just as if their backs had not just felt the 
beadle’s cane, or his bright blade. 

But now and then the horses were at pasture too far off, or 
had been taken from the plough too often for the peasants to 
have them in readiness so quickly, and then Heloise was wit- 
ness of scenes which caused her inmost soul to revolt. Abusive 
language and blows rained down on the peasants, who dared 
not offer any resistance to the supposed imperial officer — for 
the beadle wore, on the journey, an embroidered civil uni- 
j form, with a sword at his side, to heighten his authority. Even 
the postmaster received, by turns, kicks and half a rouble, to in- 
duce him to let some of the horses be taken from the plough 
immediately ; and one of the two means was sure to bring 
success. Heloise, with the warmth of a noble heart, could 


HELOISE. 


143 


not refrain, several times, from calling to the cruel man to con- 
trol himself, and urging the princess, who looked on with 
cold indifference, to prevent such outrages. u What’s the 
use ?” the latter would say ; u we must have horses.” The 
nurse too, only said, “ Hush, hush, Golubushka ! You don’t 
know our Russians. Be quieted, Dushinka — 1 one whipped 
man is worth two that haven’t been whipped.’* Our late 
prince, Boris Andreitsh, used to deign to do just so when 
he was travelling. But, to be sure, he was a great lord ! 
Patience, patience, Andrei Ossippowitsh ! there, you see % 
Milinka , there are the horses now !” 


* Russian proverb. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE ARRIVAL. 

At length, after a journey of eleven long days and nights, 
they came to the steppes inhabited by the Black Sea Cos- 
sacks — Heloise’s last station, as it were, before her reunion 
with a beloved father. She had, on the road, written a short 
letter to the count, informing him of her arrival, and sent it 
to the camp by a courier from Asoff, the last place in which 
the princess intended to rest for a few hours. The letter 
would reach her father half a day before her ; a thought which 
afforded her considerable relief. For, certain as she had felt 
of being received with warm affection, still, the nearer the 
decisive moment drew, the more she was tormented by the 
doubt whether her father would approve of the step which she 
had taken of her own accord, without awaiting his permission. 
u But no, no,” she said to herself, u he will not be displeased 
with me ! The sight of me will once more recall to his mind, 
will realize, his blissful dream of love, as he himself, in one of 
his letters, calls the brief period of his happiness. Has not my 
beloved foster-mother often told me — and did not the ambas- 
sador in St. Petersburg also say, the other day — that I am 
the image of my departed mother ? How refreshing it will 
be to the dear exile, who has pined so long among loveless 
strangers, to hear the sounds of his native land once more 
from the lips of his child ! Oh ! my beloved, poor, poor father, 
I will belong to you entirely henceforth ! You will no more 
be obliged to hide your long grief in your own heart. That 


HELOISE. 


145 


dear head shall rest on your daughter’s bosom !” She pictured 
him to herself pale and suffering, his heart crushed by the 
broken tie of love, like his royal consort, whose life, since the 
separation from the object of her eternal affection, had been 
but a slow pining away. 

She took out his miniature, which represented him as a 
handsome blooming man, and which, having inherited it from 
her mother, she carried in her bosom attached to a slight gold 
chain. It had been painted for Madame von Waldeck, when 
the count was but just twenty years old, and had been given 
by her to the princess. There was vigor and freshness of 
spirit in the handsome face ; the high forehead, surrounded by 
chestnut locks, was of a dazzling whiteness, and around the 
mouth lay an expression of almost girlish softness. The por- 
trait bore a strong resemblance to Felix, only the latter looked 
much more energetic and manly. “ Good God !” said Heloise 
to herself, “how my father must have altered!” — but she 
thought only of the changes brought forth by grief, not of those 
which life had worked. “Ah !” she said, as she pressed the 
miniature to her lips, “ what a warm tender heart is portrayed 
in these features ! I know well it is with the dead ! But what- 
ever part of it still belongs to this world, you owe to your 
child, who, in her turn, gives you the whole of hers !” 

The steppes through which they were now passing, only 
form, in fact, the broad base of the lofty Circassian mountains, 
which divide Asia from Europe. The soil, rocky, chalky, and 
unfruitful, affords but poor sustenance for the strong, vigor- 
ous race which Catharine’s shrewd policy enticed hither from 
the flourishing shores of the Dnieper, to practise, as guardians 
of the frontier, the warlike trade to which they had been bred, 
to Russia’s advantage. No smile of nature here rejoices the 
heart of the traveller — unless it is the frank, reckless cheer- 
fulness of the inhabitants, which all the horrors of a war that 
requires the sacrifice of the best part of their young men, have 

7 


146 


HELOISE. 


not yet subdued. Heloise’s spirit was troubled, yet she saw 
with pleasure the picturesque figures of the old Zaporogueans, 
and, if she had been familiar with the language, would have 
enjoyed listening to their glorious national songs, which they 
brought from the Dnieper, and which glowed with hatred 
against the “ Lech,”* once the oppressor, but now the oppressed. 
Full of sad, vague forebodings, she approached the confines of 
a new world. 

They were now quite near to the seat of war. Before them 
lay the gradual descent of the last Caucasian ridge, which 
forms the northern inclosure of the Cuban valley. It seems 
as if the Spirit of the mountain had once more summoned all 
his failing giant force at this the boundary of his dominions, 
for, measured from the bottom of the valley, the sides of the 
rock on the South rise, at some points, to the perpendicular 
height of four hundred feet. The slopes near the river are 
covered with woodland and cultivated fields. The road rises 
slightly as it winds through the pass which leads into the 
broad Cuban valley, and the ridges gradually separate more 
and more, so that the entrance into the valley resembles a 
broad open plain. There lay, surrounded by woodland, the 
city of Jekaterinodar, with its fortifications. To the West, 
not more than half a mile from it, on the open meadow land, 
the white tents of the Russian camp were extended in long 
regular files. 

Heloise’s heart beat violently. She leaned out of the 
carriage-window and cast her eye over the broad valley, so 
highly favored by nature. There flowed the mighty, rapid 
stream, which every day bore so many corpses to the sea ; 
on each side of it swampy meadows, ornamented with rows 
of tall, noble trees, which, planted side by side, as if by hu- 
man hands, mark, even at a distance, the course of the river 


* Another name for the Poles. 


HELOISE. 


147 


which sparkles among the rich green. For several miles 
beyond the swamps, on the southern hank, lay extended 
the richest pastures and arable land. Nature seemed to offer 
ample means of subsistence for thousands ; hut, for centuries 
past, men had sowed nothing but blood on this ground ; now 
a luxurious crop had sprung up. In the far background 
/ arose, amphitheatre-like, the dark, woody mountains, from 
? which innumerable little sparkling torrents leaped on towards 
the Cuban, telling tales of the lovely hidden valleys and 
ravines through which they had passed. From the thick 
woods on the mountain-plains there arose on all sides dense 
black clouds of smoke, darkening the southern sky, marking 
the spots which once were populous Circassian villages — but 
now desolate heaps of blackened ruins. 

For some time back, our friends had been reminded, by 
sentinels stationed here and there, sutlers who were passing 
along with their wagons, and now and then a Cossack who 
flew by them on his swift steed, that they were approaching 
the end of their journey. Now the scene suddenly grew 
more lively. A considerable body of infantry came marching 
towards them, leading in their midst twenty or thirty men, 
without arms, and their hands bound. Their Oriental war- 
like costumes, showed Heloise that they must be Circassian 
prisoners. The procession advanced — several officers, ob- 
viously on duty, rode on before and beside it. Others were 
galloping to and fro, unoccupied, as it seemed, and only 
brought there by curiosity. 

The princess ordered the postillion to drive to one side, 
and to stop until the troops had passed. On^entering the 
valley they had already remarked an open space surrounded 
by sentinels, at the entrance to which a couple of cannons 
threatened destruction to every intruder. The soldiers were 
now close to them, and while the young officers regarded the 
veiled ladies and their travelling-equipage with inquisitivo 


148 


HELOISE. 


boldness, Heloise, sadly and with pity, gazed at the noble 
countenances and commanding forms of the young Circas- 
sians, who, their power subdued by their chains, seemed to 
meet their fate with the stoical indifference peculiar to the 
Orientals, which borders upon contempt. “ Most probably,” 
thought Heloise, u these unfortunate men will be taken to 
the interior of Russia, and there, instead of fighting for the 
freedom of their country, will be forced to work on some 
road for their enemies, while their mothers and wives are 
weeping for them. What a horrible thing is war !” 

Suddenly the nurse cried out, “ Look yonder, Katharina 
Michailowna ! is not that our nephew, Wassilei Iwanowitsh? 
God be praised ! it is he !” and with this she fell to nodding 
and beckoning, by which the young officer, who was not on 
duty, was soon brought to their side. 

“ God be praised, nephew, that I have found you here,” 
said the princess, and her voice trembled as she added : 
“ How is Alexander Borissowitsh ?” 

l ' % He is better, God be praised ; you have nothing more to 
fear on that score, my dear aunt,” was the reply ; u his arm is 
not yet entirely well, and therefore he is still at the hospital, 
but the fever has left him. What a good mother you are, 
Katharina Michailowna,” he added, with a side-glance at 
Heloise, whose blooming beauty shone through her green 
veil. “ A companion,” he thought, and kindly saluted the 
nurse, whom he had long known. 

Both the good women were loud in their praises to God 
for this good news, and then the princess asked, “ But what 
is going on here, Wassilei Iwanowitsh?” 

“ An every-day scene,” said the young man, smoothing 
his moustache. “ Some prisoners of war are being led to the 
place of execution, to be shot for deserting.” 

“ Shot !” cried both his friends — and Heloise looked at 
the speaker with horror. 


HELOISE. 


149 


u They are Kabardines,” he continued, with indifference, 
u w ho have been enlisted for the emperor, and put in one of 
our cavalry-regiments. The Kabarda belongs to us, and its 
so-called princes were obliged to swear allegiance to the em- 
peror. But there is no dependence on these scoundrels ; 
leave them unwatched a moment and off they will be, in large 
companies, to join the rebel Notachaizes and Shapzucks, who 
are now giving us so much to do. They steal from the camp 
in the night and swim through the Cuban like fish, without 
laying off their arms. Confounded fellows ! These, now, 
were caught again by the Cossacks, and Count Staden has 
ordered them to be shot.” 

Heloise uttered a scream — “ My father !” she cried, in a 
tone of agony. 

The officer looked at her in surprise. 

“ Ah, I forgot,” said the princess, in explanation, “ she 
is the daughter of the commander-in-chief ; she does not un- 
derstand Russian — speak French to her.” 

The young man touched his hat respectfully : he was in 
the highest degree surprised, but immediately assumed a 
gallant tone, and spoke, in tolerable French, of the infinite 
happiness of making her acquaintance. But Heloise inter- 
rupted him : 

“ Is it possible,” she said, in the same language — “ is it pos- 
sible that it is my father who causes these unhappy beings to 
be shot? Ah, Monsieur, can you not delay it, only till I 
have spoken to my father? He will not refuse the first 
request which his daughter makes to him in her life !” 

“ You do me the honor to think me more influential than 
il am,” replied the lieutenant, repressing a smile. “But be- 
lieve me, Mademoiselle, if the camp is to have the happiness 
of your presence for any length of time, you will often find 
occasions to speak a kind word in such cases as this. They 
happen here every day.” 


150 


HELOISE. 


“ Can it be possible/’ cried Heloise, in a tone of anguish, 
u that my father is so cruel?” 

u It is but the right of war, Mademoiselle. They do not 
treat our men any better over yonder. But allow me to ask, 
is his Excellency aware of the happiness of your arrival? 
Will you do me the honor to let me be your messenger ?” 

So saying, he had already turned his horse, impatient to 
serve her, and when she said in a low voice, “ You will oblige 
me, Monsieur,” his eyes sparkled with pleasure at being able 
to oblige so beautiful a young lady, and particularly tho 
daughter of the commander-in-chief. 

“ I would advise you, however, my dear aunt,” he said, 
before he rode off towards the camp, “ not to stay here any 
longer — I see they have reached the place of execution, and 
the affair will soon begin. It might shake your nerves.” 

u Drive on, quick, postillion !” cried the three females, with 
one voice, and when the lieutenant galloped off, the travelling- 
carriage followed him at full speed. But in vain- — a shot was 
heard, and another — and at last, shot upon shot, and echo 
gave them back from the mountains with a voice of thunder. 
The princess and the nurse shuddered ; the latter, however, 
remarked, as consolation, “ that they were only Circassians, 
who had no religion — they were nothing but heathens and 
Turks.” The princess remembered that one of these was 
perhaps the villain who shot Sasha in the arm. But Heloise, 
pale and trembling, pressed her hands to her eyes, from 
which hot tears were streaming. Every shot sent a tremor 
through her frame. u Again, and again,” she thought, “ a 
soul is ascending to heaven — to eternity. And, oh God, it 
is my father who sends them at his will to their last account !” 

Meanwhile Andrei Ossipowitsh had gone on before them in 
his Kibitka to J ekaterinodar, and had already taken possession 
of a house in the city, which happened to be to let, for the 
reception of his mistress. It was a long, one-story building^ 


HELOISE. 


151 


lightly constructed of wood, after the Russian fashion ; in 
the court were several smaller houses which served the pur- 
pose of a kitchen and store-rooms. Heloise had assigned to 
her one of the best rooms, which had a separate entrance 
from the street. A broad divan which extended along the 
wall, was to be arranged as a bed every night, and Proskovia, 
the maid which the princess had loaned her, would sleep, ac- 
cording to custom, on a mattress at her feet. 

The princess, accompanied by the nurse and several ser- 
vants, went immediately to the hospital. Heloise remained 
alone, waiting to hear from her father. Proskovia asked her 
for the key to her trunk, to take out another dress and a 
change of linen. She did not prevent her, but, painfully 
agitated as she was, she could not bestow any thoughts on 
her toilet. She merely had the dust brushed from her 
clothes, cooled her burning face and eyes with fresh water, 
and smoothed her hair. This done, she seated herself quietly, 
absorbed in sad thoughts and trembling with expectation, in 
a corner of the divan. 

The servant who had brought the water had, on her first 
entrance, attracted Heloise’s notice by her singular dress. 
She now returned, on some new errand, and Heloise looked 
at her in astonishment at the queenly manner in which her 
tall, slender figure moved about in performing her menial 
duties. Her features were perfectly regular — the nose Gre- 
cian, but the lower part of the face somewhat longer than is 
required by the rules of antique beauty. Over her large, me- 
lancholy eyes, which were half hidden by long lashes, and so 
dark that the iris could hardly be distinguished from the 
pupil, were drawn, in high, strongly-marked arches, the 
blackest eyebrows that Heloise ever had seen. The head 
was remarkably small, but well formed, and covered with a 
little many-colored cap, composed of six divisions, from 
under which the long, thick black hair hung down over the 


152 


HELOISE. 


back in seven elaborate braids. The figure, by our rules, 
could hardly be called fine. The bosom was flattened down 
entirely by a tightly-laced corset of red leather, the front of 
which was composed of two boards. It was the sign of an 
unmarried female. Broad silver hooks were set down the 
front from the throat to the bottom of the waist. This bod- 
ice is worn continually, even in sleep, thus unnaturally hin- 
dering the growth of the bosom, and only in the bridal night 
the lacings are cut by the bridegroom. With the exception of 
this fault, the girl’s form was superb. Her full loose drawers, 
of yellow calico, were so wide as to resemble a woman’s skirt. 
A light-blue underdress, with tight sleeves, reached to just 
above the knees. A long woollen overdress, of a thick, dark- 
purple stuff, open in front, with loose sleeves somewhat shorter 
than the tight ones of the underdress, gave an air of dignity to 
the whole figure. Sadly and silently her commanding form 
moved to and fro, dusting the furniture with a bunch of 
feathers. 

Suddenly a shrill female voice called: “Guasha!” The 
girl immediately turned towards the door, by which the host- 
ess, a fair, pretty Austrian, entered at the same time, and 
informed her in broken Russian, that she herself would do 
what was to be done in the room. 

u I have just heard from your honor’s people out there,” 
she said, smilingly, and attempting respectfully to kiss He- 
loise’s hand, which the latter however withdrew, “ that your ho- 
nor’s from the dear old fatherland too, and so I felt very much 
like chatting a little German again with the young lady.” 

Heloise, to be sure, was not just in the humor to “ chat 
a little,” but it awakened in her also a feeling of joy to hear 
German once more after so long a time, bad as this woman’s 
German was. Nevertheless, she gave rather short answers to 
the inquisitive questions of Madame Terlaitsh, (this was the 


IIELOISE. 


153 


name of her hostess,) but asked with interest : “ but how did 
you yourself come to this end of Europe V' 

“ W ell, your honor sees,” replied the other, laughing ; “that’s 
a queer kind of a story. No one thought, when I was horn, 
that I should shrivel up here among Tartars and Kalmucks. 
To make a long story short — I went with a lady from Vienna 
to Constantinople. And there a Russian princess offered me 
high wages and an annuity if I’d go with her to St. Peterburg, 
and I let myself be persuaded, and went. It was a sin and a 
sorrow, your honor! You see, all of a sudden she fell in love, 
my new lady did — for she was a widow — and couldn’t stay in 
St. Petersburg any longer, and must go to her lands in the 
Crimea, and to Taganrog, and I had to go along with her, all 
among the Tartars, In Taganrog,” she interrupted herself, 
with a sly laugh, “ she had some business. Enough, there I 
fell in with a sort of countryman of mine, such a Slovak or 
Russniak* from Hungary, and he had a ribbon store there, 
for your honor must know, Taganrog is a great commercial 
city. Well, every now and then I had to buy gloves, or some 
such thing there, for my lady — and so — it all happened just 
so. But I won’t incommode your honor any more with my 
story — only one thing more. Terlaitsh hadn’t but just got 
me for his wife before he was unlucky in business, and now he 
is going to try again here. But it’s a forlorn place, your honor, 
you’ll never feel comfortable here.” 

“ But who is that girl that you called Gruasha ?” 

“ Your honor liked her, didn’t you ? Poor thing ! She’s 
a nice girl ; she’s a Circassian, and she was carried off by the 
wild Cossacks from the country of the Shapzuks. What a 
war that is ! There they fall upon one another, like birds 
of prey, and kill and burn. The poor child’s father and 
mother, and brothers and sisters, were all cut down before 


* Slavonian tribes in Hungary. 


154 


HELOISE. 


her eyes. You see, your honor, her father was a Work — • 
that’s what they call the nonlemen there. But your honor 
mustn’t think, for all that, that any sort of labor’s too hard 
for her — oh no ! the Circassian princesses have to work 
harder than the servants with us. I just wanted one, and so 
I bought her of a Cossack. She’s well enough off with me, 
your honor.” 

“And the poor girl still wears her native costume,” asked 
Heloise — “ all that is left her ?” 

“ Yes, indeed,” replied the hostess ; “ the dress is very 
fine — it does mighty well for a masquerade. My princess 
went to the masquerade that the city of Taganrog gave in 
honor of Count Staden, dressed like a Circassian, but all in 
velvet and silk, and jewels, where Guasha has those plated 
hooks. I’m sure she couldn’t have found a better way tt> 
make a conquest of him — she looked like a sultana at the 
theatre.” 

“ Count — who ?” asked Heloise in surprise. 

“ Aha,” — said the woman, with a smile — “ now it’s out, 
after all ! Well — it couldn’t have been a secret long. You 
see, your honor — that was the business that took my princess 
to Taganrog. She wanted to engage herself to Count Staden 
in St. Petersburg — for she’s immensely rich, and handsome 
enough too, by candlelight — its only a pity that all the Rus- 
sian ladies paint so much, red and white, and then look like 
ghosts in the daytime. But just then the count had to go 
to the Caucasus, and the emperor don’t like so many women- 
folks along with the army. But my princess was awfully 
ambitious, and now, when he had become commander-in-chief, 
she was crazy to have him. And so she went to her estates 
on the Black Sea, and there she wrote to the count, and they 
agreed to have a meeting in Taganrog. I had to laugh, 
when every one said, and it was in all the newspapers, that 
the general was coming to Taganrog himself, to see if the 


HELOISE. 


155 


troops had provisions enough ; hut I knew better. In Tagan- 
rog they got engaged to each other, and the general is going 
to marry her, as soon as he is recalled ; for your honor must 
know that no one long keeps the upper hand here. But 
I’m talking too much, I am tiring you, Miss — your honor 
looks as pale as a sheet — I’ll run and make you some tea.” 

“ Bo so, my good woman,” said Heloise, languidly, hardly 
above a whisper ; u the journey has fatigued me.” 

The landlady left the room. Heloise remained motion- 
less, pale, and cold as marble. Was all, all to be taken from 
her? Not only the image of the humane man in her father, 
but also that of the faithful, mourning husband ? Had she 
left her home, her brother, her friends, to seek, through de- 
serts and wildernesses, a man to whom she was bound by no 
tie but that of filial piety — no similarity of feelings, of views, 
of principles ? She had no mother, no brother, and now was 
she to find that she had no father either ? 


CHAPTER XIII. 


FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 

At this moment, a bustle in the street attracted Heloise’s 
attention. She heard horsemen approaching and alighting — 
then a few orders given by a loud, commanding voice, whose 
tones penetrated to her inmost soul. She sat as if paralyzed. 
The door flew open. A tall, noble-looking man stood before 
her — strong of limb, with princely deportment, a dark bronze 
complexion, a commanding mien, and penetrating eye. He 
was dressed in the rich uniform of a Russian general ; his 
broad breast gleamed with stars and orders of the highest 
rank. His age appeared hardly more than thirty-five. Was 
it possible that this brilliant, noble-looking man, was her 
father ? 

She arose, on his entrance, and advanced a few steps. 
u Can it be true,” he asked, with a deep, searching look, u that 
my daughter stands before me? Heloise, the child of my 
love ?” 

All the deep, warm love with which, on her way, she had 
looked forward to this meeting, was brought back to her heart 
at the gentle sound of his voice : “ My father !” she whispered — 
she would have embraced his knees, but he caught her in his 
arms. She trembled ; and he also was deeply moved. 

He led her back to the divan, gently seated her, and him- 
self beside her, retaining her hand in his. There was some- 
thing in the lofty, imposing appearance of the father that also 
gave the daughter force to suppress her deep emotion. She 


HELOISE. 


157 


would have been ashamed to give way to tears in his presence; 
she felt that she must leave it to his penetration to read her 
soul — as if she ought not to unfold it to him herself. He 
looked at her long, with affectionate earnestness, and, with a 
quick and correct feeling, she understood his request, when 
she was about to speak, that she would compose herself, to 
express the wish that she would manifest more composure — 
that is, not speak before she was calm enough not to let her 
words be interrupted by tears. 

“Father,” she at last said — and the pure accent of her gen- 
tle voice had a delicious sound to him who had so long been 
banished from his fatherland — “ father, so you are not dis- 
pleased that I have sought you ?” 

“ Hid you fear my displeasure V* he asked, with a smile. 

“ Certainly not when I left Germany, dear father ; then 
I only had the one predominant feeling, the longing to throw 
myself on your paternal breast. But when I entered upon 
this stage of war, where you reign like a prince, where your 
head can be filled only with important things, and the voice 
of the heart is drowned by the clashing of swords — then a 
fear seized me that my coming might not be agreeable to you. 
Yes, father, smile, if you will,” and she too smiled, but there 
was a holy truthfulness in her eye — “ I have loved you for 
sixteen years, for that is about as long as I can remember ; 
but to-day I have also learned to fear you.” 

“ That you had better leave to the men,” said the count, 
laughing. “No,” he continued, affectionately putting his 
.arm around her, and leaning her head against his shoulder, 
“ I am not displeased — you are welcome to me,” and with 
this h$ kissed her pure white forehead, with a seriousness 
which had something solemn for Heloise’s tender heart. 
“ However, I confess that I would rather have received you 
somewhere else. This wild theatre of war is not fit for a 
gentle girl. I would wish to spare you every sorrow, which 


158 


HELOISE. 


I cannot do here. Only the soft west wind should fan you. 
you tender plant — the hot Sirocco which blows from yon 
Asiatic mountains, ought not to touch the German child of 
princes.” 

Heloise raised her head : “ Be unconcerned, father ; you 
perhaps think me weak, because this moment has moved me 
so deeply — but I am not weak, I am not feeble, father ! I am 
willing to bear every privation, ready for any thing which you 
or circumstances require of me. Tell me, dear father, is not 
that true female heroism 'l For fighting your battles, 3 ou 
have probably men enough,” she added with a smile. 

“ It is enough,” he replied, kissing her, “ that you are 
now here — and my days will in future have their bright 
moments too. We will endeavor to entwine some roses 
among the laurels.” 

Hereupon he made some inquiries about her journey, and 
the circumstances of the death of the old prince, which, in 
vindication of her appearing as his daughter, she had inform- 
ed him of in the few lines which he received shortly be- 
fore her arrival. He avoided speaking of any thing which 
might have agitated her more — did not mention his sister’s 
death — neither did he ask after Felix. While he was speak- 
ing, he looked at her closely, but with obvious satisfaction, 
for his practised eye easily detected, in those features which 
bore the traces of the fatigue of a long journey, and an ex- 
pression of painful excitement, the uncommon beauty of his 
daughter. When he had gained his end, and saw her some- 
what composed, he took leave of her, with the advice to lie 
down immediately' and try to obtain the refreshing sleep of 
which she had been deprived during her journey. u I will 
meanwhile consider,” he added, “ what can be done to pro- 
vide suitable accommodations for you. To-morrow we meet 
again.” 

She was about to accompany him to the door, where a 


HELOISE. 


159 


servant was holding his horse, and one of his adjutants was 
awaiting him. But he kept her hack in the room by an em- 
brace, saying : “You are hardly in a state to present yourself; 
the general’s daughter must not for a moment be an object of 
pity. Au revoir” • 

Heloise watched him through the window-panes as he 
rode off. A curious crowd had assembled below, wondering 
what had brought the great general, so feared by every one, 
to this place, with such a small suite. 

The count, by his affectionately-cool manner, had accom- 
plished his purpose entirely — Heloise had grown much more 
calm. His appearance of superiority had had a beneficial 
effect on her, and his paternal caresses had done her good. 

By degrees she had discovered in his face, so deeply marked 
by the storms of life, enough features that resembled the 
youthful one in the portrait, and particularly a strong like- 
ness to her beloved fostermother ; which increased her confi- 
dence in him with every moment. Yet she was far from 
being satisfied — her thirst for love was not quenched. She 
said to herself, “ I ought to thank God that it is thus” — but 
she felt no gratitude in her heart. At length she laid down, 
completely exhausted, and the long, sound, refreshing sleep 
into which she immediately sank, can only be imagined by 
those of my readers who, like her, have spent twelve succes- 
sive nights in the travelling-carriage. 

The sun was already high in the heavens when Heloise 
awoke the next morning. She felt refreshed, and, feeling 
that she owed her father this attention, she dressed with par- 
ticular care. It was now over fifteen months since Madame 
von Waldeck’s death, and she had left off deep mourning, 
but still wore usually plain black silk, avoiding all ornaments 
of any kind. Her rich, soft, ash-colored hair was combed 
smoothly behind her small and delicately formed ears, and 
was laid around the back of the head in a heavy, thick braid : 


160 


HELOISE. 


a part of her headdress on which Lisette had always expend- 
ed all her skill. To-day, however, Heloise tried her hand at 
it herself, because she did not wish to wake Proskovia, who, 
still extended on her mattress, was making up for the sleep 
she had lost, and, besides, because she did not like to trust 
herself to her rough, unaccustomed hands. She chose from 
her wardrobe a simple but very becoming mourning-dress of 
the finest cambric, the dazzling whiteness of which was only 
heightened by the tiny black spots which were sprinkled 
over it. A narrow collar of rich lace, which surrounded her 
delicate throat, was fastened by a plain brooch of Berlin 
iron. The whole dress, with its grave simplicity, reflected 
the serious tenor of her pure mind. 

She did not wake Proskovia — who jumped up in great 
alarm at having overslept herself — until she had finished 
dressing, and then directed her to put every thing in order, 
as she expected the general. She herself, meanwhile, went 
to the princess, who, with the nurse, broke out in lamenta- 
tions at Sasha’s situation, and gave, particularly, the most 
horrible description of the hospital ; which, indeed, was not 
exaggerated. To-day, at noon, the young prince was to be 
brought over to their apartments. 

Hour after hour passed, and her father did not come. 
At length an adjutant arrived, as his messenger — a handsome, 
polished young man, of one of the first families in the em- 
pire. In St. Petersburg, when he was stationed there, among 
the Guards, he had been the lion of the fashionable world — 
a beau of the most aristocratic circles, a Russian Pelham. 
On the stage of war, in the wilderness, his better nature had 
been roused ; on several expeditions into the mountains he had 
accomplished wonders of bravery, and as formerly his ambi- 
tion had led him to subdue women’s hearts, so all his ideas now 
turned upon conquering Circassians. A dandy will not so 
easily turn into an able statesman, but that physical courage 


HELOISE. 


161 


which makes a brave warrior, is often found in empty, unem- 
ployed minds. 

The news, however, of the arrival of the beautiful 
German countess, the mighty general’s daughter, had re- 
minded him once more that the Graces, the attendants of 
Venus, may sometimes wait also upon wild Mars. He 
was proud of being made the messenger of the great 
man. A look in the glass, a few strokes of the comb and 
brush over his hair and moustache, half a bottle of Eau 
de Cologne, which had lain forgotten in some corner of his 
travelling-case, poured over his handkerchief, and the enliven- 
ing prospect of once more standing before a handsome and 
noble woman — more was not necessary to carry him back to 
the days of his easy conquests. Heloise’s simple deportment, 
which had so much natural dignity and nothing in the least 
fashionable in it, seemed to strike him. 

11 His Excellency sends me, Mademoiselle,” he said, in such 
pure French, that Heloise would have taken him for a native 
of France, “ to inform you that, with a great deal of trouble, 
he has not yet succeeded in obtaining the impossible, that is, 
to find, among the huts of this wretched village, a residence 
which is worthy of receiving his daughter. The family of a 
crown-officer, who occupied the least miserable house of the 
place, have at last been induced to give it up to Mademoiselle. 
The people made as many difficulties as if it were a palace 
which they were to leave. In a few hours it will be put in 
tolerable order, and his Excellency will then have the honor 
to conduct Mademoiselle there himself.” 

u I regret exceedingly,” replied Heloise, who did not for 
a moment doubt that she was to occupy this house with her 
father — “ I regret exceedingly that my arrival has been the 
occasion of depriving another family of their property.” 

u Where is the Russian who would not be happy to serve the 
daughter of the great general?” answered Count Dabanoff — 


162 


HELOISE. 


this was the name of the adjutant — with a smile, the sarcastic 
expression of which was rendered less apparent by the respect- 
ful bow which accompanied it. “And indeed, countess, you 
must prepare yourself to be accused of far more serious devas- 
tations than this.” 

“ Do you perhaps hope for my aid against the Circassians, 
Monsieur ?” inquired Heloise, with a shade of irony. 

“ The fame of our arms would be for ever past, if those 
savages could be wounded by a pair of handsome eyes as 
easily as Russian hearts.” A polite sigh accompanied these 
words. 

“Enough, enough, Monsieur,” interrupted Heloise, with a 
cold smile — “ be so kind as to tell my father that I shall be 
ready for him at any time.” 

Count Dabanoff made a low bow, and in a few minutes He- 
loise heard him galloping away. She approached the window, 
and noticed, for the first time, that a sentry was stationed before 
her house. The latter was situated in a broad street, almost 
a square ; in one of the smaller buildings which lay nearly op- 
posite, she saw the door open, and trunks and furniture being 
carried in. She conjectured immediately that this was the 
house into which the family who had given up their own bet- 
ter one, to her father, were moving. 

She was still standing by the window, when her hostess 
entered, and, with some confusion, begged her pardon for the 
incautious manner in which she had spoken of the count the 
day before. 

“ For how should I know that his Excellency was your 
honor’s own father ? In this country, please you, we are in 
such fear of the chief-general, that we think a child of his 
couldn’t travel any other way than like a princess, in a state 
carriage, and with body-Cossacks before, and body-Cossacks 
behind.” 


HELOISE. 


163 


Heloise begged her not to be uneasy — although the re- 
membrance of what Madame Terlaitsh had said yesterday, 
pierced her heart — and remarked that she had said nothing 
bad of him. 

“ No, indeed,” replied the other, and every trace of em- 
barrassment disappeared from her naturally frank manner, 
which had in it all the cordiality of southern Germany. 
u Marrying’s no sin, for sure and for certain, or else our Lord 
wouldn’t have ordered it, and his Excellency hasn’t taken a 
vow, like a priest.” 

Heloise, penetrated with painful omotions, turned again 
to the window, when she saw a procession coming down 
the street, which excited her attention. It was a litter car- 
ried by four men, on which, wrapped in bedding, and the 
face half-covered with a veil, lay what seemed a sick person. 
Several people — among them an elderly man, with hair 
bleached before its time, and a face furrowed with grief — 
walked on both sides ; the latter half leaning over the litter, 
and apparently occupied with the sick person. 

u That must be Prince Alexander,” thought Heloise, as 
the procession approached the house in which she was. But 
now it was just under her window — it did not stop. With 
deep pity she recognized, under the veil, the sunken face of a 
woman, pale as death — the most touching picture of long 
years of suffering. The old man bent down affectionately 
over the sick woman ; but suddenly he darted, half-uncon- 
sciously as it seemed, a glance so full of anguish, so reproach- 
ful, at Heloise, that she shuddered. The train passed slowly 
by her door, and then across the street to the above-men- 
tioned house, where some younger females appeared to be in 
readiness to receive the sick person. 

“ What is that ?” asked Heloise— her heart beating with 
a dreadful conjecture — of the landlady, who stood at the 
other window. 


164 


HELOISE. 


“ Oh !” replied the other, drying her eyes — “ it is the 
assessor, and his sick wife. He built the house himself, 
that your father wants for your honor now ; it’s the best house 
in the place, and he has brought up several children there, 
and closed the eyes of some in it. But he would have given 
it up willingly, nevertheless, for his Excellency pays like a 
prince, that’s a fact ; and the wife’s long sickness hasn’t left 
much in the poor fellow’s purse. But the sick woman didn’t 
want to go away, and wouldn’t do it — and said she had hoped 
to die there. And so the man refused so long, and so obsti- 
nately — very different from what’s usually the way of the 
Russians when a great man wants something. And your 
honor’s father is like the emperor here. And so his Excel- 
lency sent a parcel of servants into the house, and they car- 
ried off all their things before their eyes. Those people are 
brutal enough here, when they serve any one that’s in power. 
That house opposite has been given to them, because it was 
empty. For your honor it wouldn’t have been nice enough, 
to be sure — but those poor people will have room enough in 
it, I think. They don’t want very much.” 

Heloise had burst into tears while Madame Terlaitsh 
was speaking. She sighed deeply, but had not time to give 
way to her emotions, for just then her father drove up. 

When he stood before her, with his stern, penetrating eye 
and commanding mien, even his smiling salutation could not 
re-awaken her confidence. 

“ Has the time seemed long to you ?” he inquired. u It 
gave me some trouble to find accommodations for you — and 
as it is, you must expect nothing but military quarters.” 

“ The smallest apartment would have been sufficient fcr 
me,” said Heloise, casting down her eyes. u I hoped, dear 
father, that you would find a place for me in your tents.” 

“ Bravo !” cried the general, laughing. “ I did not know 
what a fine soldier’s child I had for a daughter !” As he 


HELOISE. 


165 


said this, his eye fell on Madame Terlaitsh, who stood at the 
other side of the room. He looked somewhat disconcerted ; 
a dark glow overspread his face. But the next moment, al- 
ready, his countenance assumed a still haughtier and more 
impenetrable expression than before ; he looked like one 
who is ashamed of being ashamed. 

“ What !” he exclaimed — “you here, Nanny? How did 
you come here ?” 

“ Please your honor,” replied the fair-haired Austrian, 
without the slightest embarrassment ; “ your Excellency must 
know I left the princess long ago, and I’ve been here almost 
three months. A body can’t always stay single, your honor 
knows. My husband’s a merchant, and he’s travelling now ; 
and I try to get an honest living by letting my house to tra- 
vellers. Yesterday the Princess Gawrilolf took it.” 

While she was* speaking, the general, who had a peculiar 
tact for employing every moment, and turning even disad- 
vantages to advantage, had formed a plan. 

“ This is very convenient for me,” he said ; “ my daughter 
is unacquainted with the language of this country, and wants 
a German attendant. Don’t say a word, fair Nanny — you 
make a capital little soubrette. You shall have as many as- 
sistants as you wish, and besides, superintend the household of 
the countess. Make no objections — I accede to your conditions 
beforehand. You know whether or not I give good wages.” 

“ Don’t I know it ?” replied Nanny ; “ but, to be frank, 
and begging your pardon, your honor, I’m tired of being in 
service — and Russian service, above all, I’ve had enough 
of;” and, seeing the count beginning to frown, she con- 
tinued : “ Well, your honor, don’t look sour. If I do it, I 
do it because the young countess there has such a saint’s- 
face, and not for the sake of money.” Heloise, pleased with 
her father’s proposition, had turned her eyes upon her in 
supplication. 


166 


HELOISE. 


“ You may do it for any reason you wish,” said the count, 
somewhat haughtily. “ Pack up quickly whatever you want, 
and follow us this evening. The countess will not need you 
before she retires. She will find some wenches there whom 
I have borrowed in haste.” 

He gave Heloise his arm and led her to the carriage. The 
- princess had gone to the hospital for her son. The general 
promised to call on her soon with Heloise, to thank her for 
her protection. 

“ Borrowed ! wenches !” mumbled Nanny, as he left; “ he’s 
got enough German feeling of shame, at least, not to speak in 
his daughter’s presence of the servants that he has bought for 
her in a hurry. For he’ll remember well enough that in dear 
Germany they don’t buy men and women like cattle, and 
don’t speak as contemptuously of a respectable ladies’ -maid as 
they do here. Well, she’ll have to get accustomed to it too, 
the dear little angel !” 

The house to which the general took his daughter, was 
indeed one of the best in the place. True, it had but one story, 
and was built of wood, like all the rest, but it was more substan- 
tial and better finished ; a broad portico supported on pillars, 
which surrounded it, gave it a distinguished and temple-like 
appearance. The furniture had been hastily collected — a 
mixture of old and new, and ill-matched. The whole house- 
hold bore a similar stamp. A number of servants were al 
ready awaiting Heloise’s arrival: a cook, housemaids, valets, a 
coachman, and outriders. She heard to her dismay that she 
was to reside here alone, separated from her father, as he, for 
the present, was retained by his duty in the camp. 
i He hoped, in a few days, to obtain for her a companion, 
? as it seemed hardly suitable for a lady of her rank to appear 
alone. The commandant of Jekaterinodar, an officer of merit, 
and the father of daughters who were growing up, had pro- 
cured from the imperial institution in Moscow, a governess, 


HELOISE. 


167 


at a very great expense. She belonged to the nobility, spoke 
French, could play dances and sonatas on the piano, and was 
the pride of the family. But the general now had need of 
her for his daughter. He begged the major to let him have 
her, as a favor for which he would show himself grateful. The 
major swallowed his vexation and made a low bow. Made- 
moiselle Kalinoffska was not a little delighted with the 
exchange — it seemed to her like a promotion in rank. The 
next day, already, she arrived with trunks and bundles ; but 
she was an empty chatterbox, who brought no consolation to 
Heloise’s isolated heart. The evening before, Madame Ter- 
laitsh had come, and, at the desire of her new mistress, had 
brought Guasha with her. 

T hus our heroine found herself, quite unexpectedly, at 
the head of a large household — indeed, a kind of court. There 
was a singular mixture of paltry splendor and disguised in- 
convenience; here a profusion of things that could as well 
have been dispensed with, and there a want of such as were 
most necessary. A row of apartments was at her service, 
but, as mentioned above, scantily and unsuitably furnished, 
as well as could be done in so short a time ; here a mirror 
with a splendid gilt frame, and under it a table, from under 
the many-colored worsted cover of which, pine-wood legs 
protruded : here rich silk window-curtains, and all around the 
room divans, the cushions of which, flattened by long use, were 
covered with faded chintz. Her meals were served on silver 
dishes, and she ate them off earthenware plates ; the table was 
covered with a damask cloth, while the napkins were full of 
holes, and of the coarsest kind. Every day her table was 
loaded with a quantity of dishes, of which she and her com- 
panion would have left the third part untasted, even if the 
French cook, who had come on with the army as packer, 
and, in his own country, had probably never seen any other 
kitchen than that of a country inn or a sutler’s tent, had pre- 


168 


HELOISE. 


pared them with any skill. A host of servants filled her halls 
and antechambers, who passed their leisure time in playing 
cards and dice. In vain their mistress looked around for their 
bedrooms. During the night they lay stretched about on the 
floor of Heloise’s drawing-rooms and dining-hall, wrapped in 
blankets that were spread out at night as quickly as they were 
taken away in the morning. “ That’s the fashion of this coun- 
try, your honor,” said Madame Terlaitsh, or Nanny, as she 
was now again called; “the cattle have their stables, but the 
servants haven’t even got a room to sleep in.” 

Her father sometimes dined with her, and oftener still 
he made a passing visit, or invited her to the camp, to which 
she rode in a carriage and six, with her companion by her 
side, and two footmen stationed behind. A guard of honor 
accompanied her there and back. And, indeed, she received 
such homage as she had always thought was paid only to a 
princess. Her appearance, when, after having been received 
at the entrance of the camp by her father and a number of 
the first officers with the most marked attention, she passed, 
leaning on the arm of the former, through the long lines of 
tents and their respectfully saluting inhabitants, to that of 
the general, threw the whole camp into commotion, and there 
was no one, whose eye did not admiringly follow the noble 
couple. 

The animated theatre of war had a certain attraction for He- 
loise ; at least that of a striking novelty : here lay a band of 
soldiers between the tents, playing dice ; there some wounded 
men, who, on one of their expeditions, had been struck by the 
arrows of the Circassians, were being brought home on litters, 
made of boughs of trees ; here again some light-hearted crea- 
tures, who would to-morrow perhaps meet with a similar or 
worse fate, were dancing to the sounds of the Balalaika. 
There a fierce corporal was drilling, with oaths and blows, a 
few lamentable recruits, and then again the party passed 


HELOISE. 


169 


some recovered deserters, among them many an unfortunate 
Pole — or a troop of Circassian prisoners. 

Towards her, her father was never otherwise than kind 
and full of delicate attentions ; yet here, in his sphere, he 
gave only the impression of a stern master, more feared than 
beloved. In his conversations with her he was often distrait , 
absent. His lips often smiled while his eyes showed displea- 
sure. They were often alone together — for Mademoiselle 
Kalinoffska could not be counted any one 5 the count did not 
take the least notice of her — and this led Heloise, in the 
beginning, to hope that she might win his confidence ; but 
their interviews were always so short, so often interrupted by 
business, that she never could find time for an introduction 
of the subject. As for asking questions, quite unprepared, 
of this man with the commanding eye — she had not the cou- 
rage for that. 

He himself questioned her but little. He seemed, with his 
sharp eye, to look her through, before she could unfold herself 
to him. Only once, he spoke of Felix : “ My sister at one 
time communicated to me a plan,” he said, “ which the prin- 
cess also approved of. She wished to have her son marry 
you. What prevented its execution?” 

Heloise answered in a low voice : “ Felix’s heart had 
already chosen for itself, father.” 

“ Indeed ! So he is married. Did my sister approve of 
his choice?” 

“ She never heard of it. You know Felix was far away 
when his dear mother died.” 

“Well, well — hm — was the girl rich? This is not a 
face that one would reject,” he added, taking her by the 
chin. 

“ Oh ! Emma is a thousand times handsomer than I,” 
cried Heloise sadly, and blushing deeply ; “riches would not 
have bribed Felix’s generous heart.” 

8 


170 


HELOISE. 




The count soon knew all that Heloise wished to tell him. 
The rest he easily conjectured. One thing only he did not 
learn — that his daughter, from pride and shame, had, until 
her departure, left her cousin under the impression that he 
was her brother. 

“ Well,” he said at last, “ I confess that I too would have 
wished this connection. I would like to have had you 
settled on your estates, as the wife of a German nobleman, 
independent of the humor and favor of superiors, far from 
the bustle of a world which will never make you happy. It 
was your foster-mother’s idea — for such plans have always 
their cradle in women’s hearts. We might have known 
it beforehand if we had been wise — for the enthusiasm 
of love requires a certain visual distance, a certain magic 
illumination, to shed its light over the only half-recognized 
object — of which fraternal familiarity can know nothing. 
I should have thought, indeed,” he added, looking at her 
with fond admiration, w that my Heloise would have been 
proof against even the closest proximity. But it is just as 
well so ; now that you are here, you shall not want an establish- 
ment which will far surpass in splendor that which Felix 
could have offered you.” 

u Oh ! my father !” interrupted Heloise, “ do not think 
of such a thing ! Let me stay with you. It is only for 
your sake that I came here. Are we not both equally alone 
in the world ?” 

She did not think of Madame Terlaitsh and her prin- 
cess, when she said this. But the count’s face was suddenly 
covered with crimson. “ I have some doubt,” he said, with 
a laugh, “ of your always thinking so.” 

x Only once, too, he made inquiries respecting the two 
deaths which concerned him so nearly, and willingly gave 
way for half an hour to a deeper emotion. That of his 
royal partner, it is true, had been crowded somewhat into the 


HELOISE. 


171 


background by the seventeen years of strife, and life in the 
world, which lay between the present and his short dream of 
love. The wound had healed, though it had left a scar. But 
the fresher one caused by his sister’s death was not yet 
entirely cured. The retrospect to the harmless innocence of 
childhood has, even for the man of the world, something 
touching. With the death of his sister, the tie seemed 
broken which bound him to the past. Heloise’s unexpected 
appearance only had renewed it. However, he carefully 
avoided touching upon the subject again. 

His conversations with Heloise were mostly short, and 
turned upon matters of indifference. Nevertheless, his 
daughter’s heart beat higher when he approached. She 
sometimes inwardly compared him with Angern. Both had 
been matured by the storms of life, the minds of both aspired 
to great things. But how entirely different they were ! In 
conversation Angern always knew how to give importance to 
the least thing, to attach an idea to the most commonplace 
subject — her father, on the other hand, passed lightly over 
every thing, and yet a thinking person would feel that under 
the words which slid along on the surface, a deeper soul was 
concealed. Both seemed to press onward, with firm steps, to 
a fixed goal : the struggle for the rights of man, for the good 
of the people, was the aim of one ; martial fame, the satisfy- 
ing of an inordinate ambition, the task of the other. Angern 
would have laid down his life for liberty ; Count Staden dedi- 
cated his, with no smaller sacrifice, to the harshest despotism. 
Heloise loved her father devotedly ; but she felt with deep 
sorrow that his breast was no place for a wounded heart to 
rest on. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


GUASHA AND HER HOME. 

Nearly ten weeks had passed, since Heloise had left her 
native land. A new world had been opened to her, into 
which she looked with all the excitability of a fresh, youthful 
mind. Still she had enough leisure left her to think of the 
past, and to long to hear from her distant friends. Imme- 
diately after her arrival she had written to Isabella, but not 
yet received a line in answer. She had to think of Emma 
as Felix’s wife ; and Felix — what had he thought, what had 
he felt when he returned and found her gone? — had she 
done well to go away ? — could he find a lasting happiness at 
Emma’s side ? — and had she been right in depriving him of 
the friend who might have afforded him aid and consolation 
in hours of sorrow ? Oh ! she could have hated herself, for 
wanting to be more to him than a friend and sister ! She 
should have warned him, with loud and urging voice, of 
his danger in binding his existence to that of a vain, false 
woman — she should have borne with him, when he did not 
hear the warning voice — she should have stayed with him, 
as she could not save him, to console him in future. Oh ! 
how little had her beloved foster-mother known her selfish 
heart, when she called her, so often, her son’s guardian 
angel ! — how little did she suspect for what a selfish pas- 
sion she was sowing the seed in her bosom, when, for many 
years, she unrolled before the eye of her fancy, the pictures 
of a future quiet domestic happiness, in which Felix, her be- 


HELOISE. 


173 


loved Felix, was the principal figure. And now she was 
far from him, many hundred miles away from him ! He 
could see her no more ! He thought of her no more ! 
All his feelings were exhausted upon another ; and this 
other ! — 

Thus her poor heart tormented itself by day and by 
night, and without any one suspecting aught of it, except 
that her father from time to time fixed a sharp, scrutinizing 
look upon her, and Guasha’s eyes often followed her with 
an expression of pity, and filled with tears when she saw her 
young mistress weeping. But before all, she endeavored to 
conceal her grief from the shrewd and officious Nanny, who 
sought to divert her thoughts by a thousand relations of in- 
cidents from her checkered life. 

Meanwhile summer had come, and a dull and sultry at- 
mosphere pervaded the steppes ; unwholesome vapors rose up 
from the morasses, which, in the hot season, stretch along 
the shores of the Cuban to the breadth of a quarter of a 
mile. A malignant epidemic crept through the camp and 
filled the hospitals, so that hardly any room was left for the 
wounded, who were almost daily brought back from the ex- 
peditions across the river and into the mountains. 

Heloise, too, was but slightly protected against the burn- 
ing heat of the steppes, by the thin wooden walls of her room ; 
and the defects of her hastily collected establishment afforded 
her but few means of refreshment. Yet it was in vain that 
the count had several times proposed to her to go to Pjati- 
gorsk, or one of the Russian watering-places of Caucasia, 
where she would find more convenient accommodations, and 
society suited to her rank, among the noble families who 
were wont to repair there during this season. She would 
remain with her father, this was her firm determination, for, 
she said, for what else had she left Germany and all that was 
so dear to her ? 


174 


HELOISE. 


And, indeed, she had had occasion enough to ask herself 
with a deep sigh : u what was she here for V 1 Her domestic 
life, full of empty show, without meaning and dignity, had 
become more and more irksome to her. Even her visits to 
the camp, as soon as they lost, with their novelty, the charm 
of excitement, had grown more painful than pleasing to her. 
She believed she saw, plainly enough, in the countenances 
of the soldiers, an expression of sullen discontent. There 
were among them many vagabonds and strollers, to whom 
this war afforded little opportunity for spoil, but there were 
also many worthy young peasants, for whom parents and 
wives were weeping at home. And for these they were, in- 
deed, as dead, for, in the sight of the Russian peasant, the 
Caucasus is nothing but an open grave ; it is for the military 
what Siberia is for the civilian — the return from it is diffi- 
cult and improbable. There were also many Polish noble- 
men among the army, who, after having struggled desperately 
and vainly for their own liberty, were now forced here to aid 
in undermining that of another people. Only the Cernomor- 
zians appeared to carry on the war joyfully, and with good 
reason, for for them it could be called a war of defence. 

And if our heroine looked around among the officers, how 
many coarse, vicious faces met her eye ! The idea often en- 
tered her head, that the Caucasian army must be a kind of 
penitentiary, a means of purgation for noble families to rid 
themselves of refractory sons and wards, and for the govern- 
ment to remove dangerous subjects — so wildly and shamelessly 
did depravity look out from under the deceptive mantle of a 
discipline which was almost cruelly severe. Of course only 
the higher and better educated of the officers approached her, 
but here too she was brought in contact with much that was 
painful to her. Could she help remembering, in the midst 
of the polite speeches of yon brave colonel, who was formerly 
commandant of Fort Jekaterinodar, what Nanny had told her 


HELOISE. 


175 


of the shameless extortions and frauds which he had practised, 
and how he had let the unfortunate soldiers starve on mouldy- 
bread and putrid meat, until her father, who had his eye every 
where, had come to the head of the army ? Could she look at 
that young captain, who had a taste for literature, and trans- 
lated novels from the German, without thinking of the poor 
soldier whom, the other day, in a fit of very excusable passion, 
because he had not scoured his buttons bright enough, he 
gave so violent a blow over the head, that the unfortunate 
man was prostrated by it, and had to be taken to the hospital, 
because the officer — who, it is true, was only inflicting a law- 
ful punishment — had accidentally struck his temple? 

All this induced Heloise to make her rides less and less 
frequent ; yet also at home but few attractions were offered her. 
Of books she was entirely destitute ; even materials for needle- 
work could only be obtained with much trouble. The com- 
mandant had humbly surrendered, with the governess, without 
whom he had no use for it, a piano — but little could be done 
with the miserable instrument ; neither were any notes to be 
had. The general, indeed, dispatched a courier to Taganrog 
for every thing that she needed, that he was aware of ; but, on 
the one hand, she herself recoiled from this waste of human 
property and human strength; and, on the other, she was 
ashamed to trouble her father with requests for things which 
seemed trifling and insignificant here, in the face of gigantic 
scenes of nature — on this stage, where the scale which con- 
tained hundreds of fresh, vigorous, young lives, daily flew up 
into the air. And if she could not but look at them in this light, 
what must they be to him who held the scales in his own iron 
hand, heedless, as Heloise often felt with horror, how many 
of these plebeian human weights he threw into them, when 
they were intended to balance some plan of operation that 
was once made. And she herself, in the continual excite- 
ment in which she was kept by the vast drama which 


176 


HELOISE. 


was being acted around her, felt but little inclination for 
occupation. 

For what, then, was she here ? Her father, she felt but 
too plainly, had no need of her. In his breast, so full of am- 
bition, zeal, thirst for glory and power, so overflowing with 
contempt of mankind, there was but a small space for her left : 
too small to contain the immeasurable love which she had 
borne towards him. What could she do for him ? for him 
who seemed to know no other wish, no other aim, than to gain 
a new ground in the midst of the hated enemy, to erect a new 
fortification on his mountains, in defiance of his gun and ar- 
row shots, and surrounded by the wounded and dying. She 
often thought of the sutler’s tent, with which Rosen had 
threatened her, and how she would feel so much happier in it, 
cooking and washing for her father, than now, in her present 
empty, stylish, superfluous existence ! 

And alas, she could aid and do good to no one ! In the 
beginning she had often summoned courage, and spoken a 
word to her father, who was always so kind to her, to put a 
stop to the cruelly-severe discipline practised against thought- 
less transgressors or recaptured deserters. She herself, in 
the halo with which her father had surrounded her, would 
have known but little about these things, had not Nanny’s 
frankness and kindheartedness directed her attention to the 
barbarous punishments which her father ordered ; not with- 
out cutting remarks about Russian barbarity, and how those 
foreigners who had served in the Russian army, had the 
reputation of being still more inhuman than the Russians 
themselves. Rut her requests had never yet been of any 
avail; her father had always silenced her, as defective educa- 
tion pacifies children, by agreeing to all she said and promis- 
ing every thing, without a thought of keeping the promise. 
But if she would not be put off in that way, and persisted in 
her entreaties, he would cast upon her a look, the severity of 


HELOISE. 


1 77 


which was much more terrible to her than another’s anger 
would have been, and with a cuttingly-cold politeness, which 
was still more terrible to her than his look, he informed her 
that there were certain things in which men alone had a 
voice. 

In order to employ her time usefully, she had, since her 
arrival, taken lessons in Russian of Mademoiselle Kalinoffska, 
and, by diligence and application, had, in a short time, made 
astonishing progress. She had the satisfaction of winning 
great praise for this from her father, who was highly pleased 
with any proof of energy. Besides this, she had written down, 
from Guasha’s lips, a vocabulary of the Circassian language, 
and, with the help of Nanny and Mademoiselle Kalinoffska, 
had learnt from her a great deal about her people and its 
chivalresque customs. The beautiful girl, with her queen-like 
deportment and her melancholy eyes, excited Heloise’s deep- 
est sympathy. She offered to buy her and give her her liberty, 
and send her back beyond the Cuban, from where she could 
easily find her way to her home ; for she belonged to the 
neighboring tribes of Shapzucks. But Guasha did not wish 
to return now. Passionately as she loved her mountains, 
she had also attached herself with a kind of affectionate 
impetuosity to her new beautiful mistress. Then too, she had 
no more a paternal roof. Over her head the fierce Cossacks 
had burnt down the homestead in which she had grown up, 
to which she was bound by so many fond reminiscences. Before 
her eyes her struggling father had been cut down — and her 
mother, her youthful sisters-in-law, borne away to slavery, no 
one could tell her where. Her brothers, heroes famed among 
their people, had fallen before, fighting for their native fire- 
side; her sisters, all older than she, had, many years before, 
been sent by their father to Constantinople to be sold. Theirs 
was the fortunate, envied lot. Their father had received 
many thousand piastres from the Turkish merchant who came 
8 * 


178 


HELOISE. 


one day, when she was still a child, from Anapa, where his 
ship lay, to their village, to pick out the most beautiful girls, 
and take them to Stamboul, where, on account of their origin, 
he might demand a double price for them. She still saw her 
sisters, how their eyes sparkled at the splendid dresses and 
brilliant jewels which the merchant gave them, to put them 
in good spirits— and how the others envied them. For a place in 
a Turkish harem is the height of the ambition of a Circassian 
maiden. Those that are beautiful and well-formed may hope 
for an idle careless life, full of sensual pleasures, among the 
wealthy Turks, to whom, in all cases, the Circassian looks up 
with a sort of awe. Bathing, adorning themselves, eating 
pasta and drinking sherbet , and between these a lounge on 
soft cushions — such is the life which those lead who find grace 
in the eyes of their master. But even those, whose humble 
lot it is to remain attendants, find this easy, compared with 
the life of hard drudgery to which they are brought up, and 
from which no marriage with one of their countrymen would 
have brought them release. For the Circassian woman, in 
marrying, only changes masters, and, besides, gives up, with 
her maidenhood, the only prerogatives of her sex which are 
valid among her people. 

Guasha, although she considered her sisters’ lot a happy 
one, did not herself shun labor. Heloise knew that she was 
the daughter of an influential Work, as the Circassians — or 
Uzdene , as the Tartars call a nobleman. She therefore 
gave her only easy duties to perform : she had to make her 
mistress’s bed, to sew for her, to braid her hair in the many 
skilful plaits of her country. But Guasha’s activity was not 
satisfied with this — the fence around the court was out of or- 
der ; immediately Guasha procured some boards and nails, and 
commenced repairing it. Some of the rooms were not of the 
cleanest ; Guasha soon came with brushes and a pail of white 
paint, which she had prepared herself, and covered the soiled 


HELOISE. 


179 


woodwork with it. Every Pshi's daughter, she said, that is, 
every princess, did that in her country. However, she prefer- 
red the more delicate domestic duties, and her skill in weaving, 
tailoring, shoemaking, and all kinds of tapestry-work — things 
in which, in a country where there are no mechanics hut 
workers in iron and gold, every woman is more or less expe- 
rienced — was of much use to Heloise and Nanny also here, 
where such trades were, if at all, only carried on in the most 
primitive manner. 

If Guasha surpassed her countrywomen in these things, 
she was before them in others also. In the neighborhood 
of her Aula — so the Circassian villages are called — there was 
a mosque, and in it a Wallachian kept a school for boys and 
girls during the summer. Here Guasha had learnt to read 
the Turkish pretty fluently, and to write something besides 
her name in the same language. Hence, too, she thought 
a great deal of the rites of the Mahometan religion, repeat- 
ing the prayers prescribed by it with tolerable regularity, 
and never neglecting to wash herself, before doing so. She 
was, however, always very cleanly, and never suffered the 
u princess’s evil ”* to make its appearance on her. But with 
all this, she also, like most of her countrymen, observed the 
Christian Sabbath, by complete rest, and showed a particular 
veneration for the holy images which the Russian family, 
whom Heloise had so innocently turned out, had left fastened 
into the corners of the rooms, but particularly for Nanny’s 
little image of the Virgin, which she decorated with flowers, 
and called Merem. During a thunderstorm she would pray 
silently, and seemed to consider the God who thundered as 
entirely different from the God of whom the Koran speaks. 


* So the Circassians, with a euphemism worthy of a more civilized 
nation, term a doubtful eruption which is frequently found among the 
women, particularly those of the higher classes. 


180 


HELOISE. 


She also wore a little silver cross, hanging to a chain, and 
hidden in her bosom, which she used to adore in secret, and 
with many tears. She took a lively interest in all that passed 
in the camp, or any thing else that was within her reach on 
the stage of war. Nanny was of the opinion that she kept 
up a constant intercourse with some of her countrymen, 
who, taken captive by the Russians, instead of suffering them- 
selves to be sent to the interior, had enlisted in the Cuban 
army, doubtless only there to watch an opportunity to return 
to their native mountains. 

Whenever, as often happened, a band of Circassians 
crossed the Cuban under shelter of a dark night, attacked 
the posts stationed on the banks, and cut down the unsus- 
pecting Cossacks ; or a handful of bold adventurers, pushing, 
recklessly, straight through the valley, broke by night into 
one of the villages at the foot of the northern mountain-wall, 
spoiling and destroying, and carrying away women and chil- 
dren with the flocks, as booty : in such cases Guasha was 
usually the first to bring the news next morning with ill- 
concealed joy. How many such feats could she relate, with 
sparkling eyes, of her brothers. The eldest had already 
carried off a whole flock when he was hardly fourteen years 
old ; and how proud did the idea make her, that her eldest 
sister-in-law, his wife — a fair, proud, chieftain’s daughter — had, 
on account of this exploit, preferred her brother to a much 
more noble suitor, because, as she said, the cattle of the 
Czemomorzians could graze in peace before the eyes of the 
latter. On such an occasion Guasha would then explain to 
Heloise, in her broken Russian, what a great condescension 
it was, when a prince gave his daughter to a mere nobleman ; 
and that this only happened if the nobleman was a good Ma- 
hometan, as her brother Ali Karsis had been, and could pay 
such an enormous price as he had done. “ But a man,” she 
added, and sighed deeply, “ whether he be a prince or only a 


HELOISE. 


181 


nobleman, may never, among my people, debase himself so 
much as to marry below his rank.” 

Sometimes Heloise, accompanied by Gruasha, would as- 
cend the watchtower of the fortress, from which she could 
overlook a portion of the martial theatre. Before her, only 
separated from the town by a broad morass, to which thickly- 
growing brush gave an emerald-green color, the Cuban 
wound its way in a thousand bends and with a clear, im- 
petuous current, forced, by the dryness of the season, into a 
narrow bed, while in winter innumerable mountain-streams 
supplied it with rich nourishment. Behind her, and closel j 
surrounding her, were the barracks and walls of the fort — 
the latter in their terrible dress of artillery and armed men; 
beyond these, the humble houses of the little town — farther 
back, and as far as her eye reached, the flat northern wall of 
the Cuban valley, which on the right was only covered with 
woods, and on the left scattered over with villages, fields, and 
meadows, on which flocks were grazing. All this was lovely 
in its way, but far less picturesque than the side-views, up 
and down the rich luxurious valley. What a prospect did 
the western lowland present, with its thousands of snow- 
white tents, and its restless and never-slumbering activity. 
The troops drilling, the messengers arriving from every side 
in full gallop, the manifold business going on here and there, 
entirely incomprehensible to the uninitiated, and, with all 
this the heavy artillery with its mysterious power, which was 
ranged along the nearer declivities : this imposing spectacle 
might well intimidate even the reckless bravery of the fool- 
hardy Circassians. 

Then, close by the river, and on its banks, the singular 
watch-houses of the Cossacks : three poles of equal immense 
height set up close together in a triangle, and on them a 
covered nest, from which the bearded, handsome Czernomor- 
zian peers out with sharp-seeing eye, like an eagle ; for the 


182 


HELOISE. 


moment only to guard the bank, so as to give the alarm at 
any approach of the enemy, but willingly taking advantage of 
the opportunity of discovering any spot where to hunt for 
booty when he is off guard, and it is his turn to make the 
attack. For the old Zaporoguean was always akin to the Cir- 
cassian in disposition as well as in race. His office of border- 
guard has never satisfied him, and during the half century 
that he has lived on the Caucasus, he has thought not to be 
able to guard the northern shore of the Cuban, without 
gathering spoil on the southern one. 

From these objects, Heloise let her eye wander beyond the 
stream. In the East, in the country of the Psadugs, things 
looked peaceable enough. Close by the water, exactly op- 
posite to Fort Jekaterinodar, at the mouth of the little river 
which separated the domain of the Psadugs from that of 
the Shapzucks, lay a small town, which the chieftain of the 
country, who resided there, kept in strict order, from fear of 
the Russians. But now she looked farther on, to the right. 
Her eye remained fixed, as if by magic, on the enchanted 
scene. Broad and luxuriant, amid the roar of artillery and 
the clashing of swords, in smiling beauty, the rich plain lay 
stretched out before her, intersected by innumerable, spark- 
ling bands of silver, wild mountain-torrents, which rush in 
restless haste from the dark mysterious forests right be- 
hind, through the meadows, as if they would escape from 
the awful power of the mountain-spirit, who dwells and reigns 
on those immeasurable, gigantic heights, his shoulders clothed 
with the primitive forests of creation, his head with the eter- 
nal snows. Her father’s telescope bore Heloise’s eye to a 
great distance ; beyond the morasses of the Cuban, she saw 
the many-colored garments of the reapers, who were gathering 
in the indispensable harvest, with a guard and arms and 
horses constantly in readiness. Small two-wheeled cars, 
drawn by oxen, were waiting to convey the grain to mountain 


HELOISE. 


183 


hollows, where it would he in safety. Many a little village, 
built in a circle, so that the flocks might be safe in the centre, 
still stood untouched on the higher plateaux, but much more 
numerous were the smoking ruins among the woods on the 
mountain side. Heloise hardly dared look at Guasha, the 
poor orphan, who sat beside her, bathed in tears ; for the 
smoke of her native Aula too had thus risen up from among 
the woods, when she, with her hands tied, hurried on by a 
merciless whip, was being led from the Ubin valley to the 
Cuban. 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE. CIRCASSIANS. 

Heloise’s interest in this war, which in the beginning, very 
naturally, had been on the side on which her father occupied 
so prominent a station, had, by degrees, almost unknown to 
herself, been transferred to the oppressed enemy, who was de- 
fending, against a force far exceeding his own, his right to 
man’s best possession, Liberty. Until now she had looked upon 
the mountaineers as mere robbers — as a race leading a savage, 
lawless life, to conquer and tame which was the interest of 
humanity and civilization. Her father himself, although he 
never spoke of the warlike inhabitants of the Caucasus other- 
wise than as rebels, had, by occasional relations of his adven- 
tures among them, given her another idea. For the count 
had not only been for many years stationed in Grusinia and 
Imeretia — and the inhabitants of these provinces and the 
border-neighbors of Azra still trembled at the sound of his 
terrible name — but he had also several times made the peril- 
ous journey over the two army-routes which lead through 
the Caucasian Isthmus ; partly in order to superintend the 
building of the fortifications which alone can render these 
roads somewhat safe, partly for the purpose of various life- 
endangering excursions, to extract, in the name of the empe- 
ror, submission from the warlike mountain tribes by diplo- 
matic cunning, or enforce it from the less resistant inhabit- 
ants of the Kabarda. Perfectly familiar with the Turkish 
language, which is acquired by most of the chieftains, ac- 


HELOISE. 


185 


quainted with the customs and prejudices of the different 
tribes, and besides this, possessing, with his iron will, a pecu- 
liar pliableness and fascination, when an object once taken in 
view was to be gained, he seemed particularly capacitated for 
an effective intercourse with the latter. 

However, his attempts had led to many a wild adventure, 
some of which seem to have been prevented from terminat- 
ing fatally, only by a miracle. But nowhere, whether among 
the wild Lesghians, or among the yet unconquered inhabit- 
ants of the north-western range, was he without a Konack 
or host, more than one of which, in consequence of the bound- 
less arrogance with which, even where his emperor’s power 
was not recognized, he usurped a monarch’s rights in his 
name, had only saved him from the wrath of the indignant 
nobles at the risk of his own life. From Anapa to the Tshet- 
shenzians no name was so hated as his, and yet, as he him- 
self acknowledged, he might have travelled, at any time, un- 
harmed through most parts of the mountain region, delivered 
by one Konack to the other. And should not Heloise honor 
such a virtue 1 

She was still more favorably inclined towards the strug- 
gling Circassians by observations which now and then escaped 
the younger officers. Count Dabanoff particularly — a gener- 
ous nature, but who treated every thing, service excepted, 
with a sort of playful superiority — was inexhaustible in sar- 
castic remarks on the humanity of this war, and the reason- 
ableness of the demands of his government. 

« The fools,” he would say, showing her a paper which 
contained the so-called “ Declaration of Independence” of 
the Circassians; “their princes might have received the 
order of St. Vladimir, and had their sons and daughters edu- 
cated in imperial military schools and noble ladies’ institu- 
tions. Now they have lost that privilege.” Or he would 
ask her, with perfect gravity, to allow him to read her, from 


186 


HELOISE. 


the St. Petersburg papers, the report of a brilliant victory 
over the mountaineers, which, to be sure, had been fought 
with their own arms, but of which they had not yet received 
the intelligence here in the camp. Or sometimes, in a fit of 
enthusiasm, he would betray the wish to exchange his rich 
uniform, which pressed in his waist and made it difficult for 
him to breathe, for the picturesque, Oriental armor of the 
Circassians ; or that he might give all his estates, scattered 
over the whole of Russia, for one of their nests among the 
rocks, so as to feel for once the sensations of a free man. 
A severe glance from the commander often checked him, and 
kept the enthusiasm of many a young officer within bounds. 
But the impression was not lost on Heloise. 

She often felt, too, as if the passions which were so wildly 
and powerfully conflicting around her, were beneficial to her ; 
as if the game which was being played close beside her taught 
her to bear her own small, mistaken destiny with more sub- 
mission. For what was the weal or woe of one young girl, 
where the die was cast for the fate of nations ? 

The combat had lasted half a century already, between 
the Caucasian nations, and the Russians, who had con- 
tinued to approach nearer and nearer to them. As long 
as the Tartars of the Crimea and the tribes on the Cas- 
pian Sea were independent powers, they served, in a mea- 
sure, as conductors for the Russians and Caucasians, who 
both were constantly engaged in hostilities with those na- 
tions, although the latter acknowledged a certain supremacy 
of the Khan of the Crimea, and, in olden times, for a number 
of years, had to pay the humiliating tribute of their most 
beautiful young men and maidens. In fact, the warlike shep- 
herd-tribes of the Caucasus, in whom the most intrepid valor 
is singularly blended with Oriental indolence, have, from the 
first, misunderstood the voice of a kind nature, which has 
crowded them and their chain of invincible rocky fortresses, 


HELOISE. 


187 


between two seas, one of which could serve their still slum- 
bering commercial spirit as an entrance from Europe, the 
other from Asia. On the North and East, they were troubled 
by the Tartar hordes, on the South by the Turks and Per- 
sians. Catharine’s fame was spread far and wide ; her name 
still shone bright at a distance, when the Prince of the Little 
Kabarda, Korina Kantshogin, the builder of Mosdock, who 
was married to the daughter of an Imeretian Czar, adopted 
the Greek religion, and voluntarily swore allegiance to the 
Russian sceptre. This step of one of their most potent chief- 
tains — it took place in the year 1759 — roused the indignation 
of the proud Circassian princes ; for as yet they were per- 
fectly independent, and considered their liberty their best 
treasure — from the above-mentioned tribute to the Tartars, 
which, however, concerned only the north-western mountain- 
tribes, they had freed themselves by their arms, half a century 
before. The supremacy of the Sultan was only recognized as 
that of the head of their religion. Bloody feuds between the 
mountain Circassians and the Kabardines, and among the 
princes of the former, broke up the country, and opened the 
gates of the Caucasus to the ambition and intrigues of Russia. 
For more than ten years, it is true, during which time, by 
stratagem and force, its foothold in the neighboring Crimea 
was growing more and more firm, the latter looked on with 
much satisfaction while the noblest powers of its victims were 
destroying themselves. But when, during the war with the 
Turks, the Russians sent, in the year 1771, an army command- 
ed by General Medem, against the Caucasian tribes, the joint 
forces of both highlanders and lowlanders were hardly able to 
resist them. But the subjection of the latter did not, for the 
moment, seem to be in the interest of the Russian cabinet : 
the independence of the Crimea and the Tartar tribes of the 
Cuban — which term comprised also the Circassians — had been 
expressly recognized in the peace of Kutshuk Kainardshi, as 


188 


HELOISE. 


a barricade for and against the Porte ; and 0V6n when Catha- 
rine, some years later, with one of those despotic grasps, the 
shameless audacity of which awed Europe instead of shocking 
it, possessed herself of the Crimea, the inhabitants of the Cau- 
casus remained unnoticed; and, in the peace of Jassy, the 
river Cuban was solemnly declared the boundary of the Rus- 
sian empire, and the chivalrous race of the Zaporogueans, Cos- 
sacks from the banks of the Dnieper, removed to the northern 
shore of the Cuban, there to protect the subjects of the em- 
press from the rapacious assaults of the mountaineers. 

However, since a part of the eastern regions of the Cau- 
casian Isthmus had, by the submission of the Czar Heraclius, 
become a province under the protection of Russia, jealousy 
had sprung up in the breasts of the free and warlike people who 
inhabit the mountains on the Black Sea, and the open, semi- 
circular valley of the Cuban — a feeling which was fully shared 
by the tribes of the Kabarda, i. e., the broad flourishing pla- 
teau which, descending towards the East from the mountains, 
between the giant peaks of the Elberus and the Kasbeck, 
stretches out between the Kuma and the Terek. For that 
is the actual cradle of Circassian heroes. This feeling was 
fostered partly by religious fanaticism, partly by the policy 
of the Porte, which, erecting several forts along the shores 
of the Black Sea, seemed to guard them more anxiously than 
ever, and even stationed a Pasha at Anapa ; although other- 
wise it does not seem to have laid claim to any rights of 
sovereignty. The restored peace did not prevent the con- 
tinuation of a petty war on the Cuban and Terek rivers. 

At the commencement of our century, Russia, by its in- 
corporation of Georgia and Imeretia, set its foot also over the 
southern barrier between Europe and Asia, and found itself, 
in the course of the next twenty-five years, by two fortunate 
wars, in possession of all the countries east and south of the 
Caucasian mountains. It was now of the utmost importance 


HELOISE. 


189 


to the Russians to gain a safe passage through their pro- 
vinces, which could only he obtained by subduing the moun- 
tain-tribes themselves. The broad military route which 
leads over Mosdok to Tiflis through the narrow pass of Wla- 
dikaukas, although scattered over with fortresses, was con- 
tinually exposed to the assaults of the highlanders, who, after 
having satisfied their rapacity, were borne off by their fleet 
horses to defiles in the mountains, inaccessible to the pur- 
suers. No traveller, no transport of goods or money, was 
safe from them without a strong military guard. Amicable 
measures were not left untried. The Duke of Richelieu, the 
creator of New Russia, endeavored to reconcile the minds 
of the tribes on the Black Sea by entering into commercial 
relations with them, and to win the chieftains over to Rus- 
sian interests by presents. But with small success. The 
few princes who saw the good of their subjects in a peace- 
able connection with their so much stronger Russian neigh- 
bors, were regarded by their countrymen with suspicion ; 
and the venerable prince of Pshat, Indar Oglu Mehmet, with 
his brave sons, who were universally acknowledged to belong 
to the noblest of the nation, had to struggle, for years, even 
after they had given up all such hopes, with the firmly-rooted 
suspicion of their friends, and the reproaches of their 
enemies. 

With much greater success, by similar means, and by the 
splendor of stars, roubles , and advancements in rank, several of 
the princes and nobles among the inhabitants of the eastern 
side of the mountain, were brought to resign their wild in- 
dependence. Some of them were persuaded to enter into 
Russian service, others submitted to the indignity of only 
being allowed to wear arms on reception of a permit ; others 
again were induced to have their sons educated at the Ly- 
ceum at Sympheropolis, or at one of the military schools at 
St. Petersburg, as pledges of their allegiance. Villages of 


190 


HELOISE. 


Russian colonists built along the Terek road — even German 
and Swiss settlements among them — or on the river's which 
flow from the mountains to the Caspian Sea, were to aid, by 
their influence, in taming the wild character of the natives. 
But time only can make this true seed of civilization spring 
up, and, in this case, an early harvest could be the less ex- 
pected, as the hands of unprincipled functionaries ander- 
mined it, and, by forcible subjection, made the Russian name 
an object of aversion. Besides this, those princes who swore 
the Russian oath of allegiance, because they saw no means 
of avoiding it, only changed enemies. For wherever the 
Russian double-eagle spread its wings, the terrible high- 
lander considered himself on the enemy’s ground ; like light- 
ning he would suddenly break into the villages, and bear off 
flocks and helpless inhabitants to the mountains — whether 
the latter were Russians or Circassians. There was no peace 
for the plains, before the mountains too were subject to the 
Russian sceptre. 

No one, therefore, could reasonably blame Russia, when, 
in the peace of Adrianople, policy induced it to extort from 
the vanquished Turks, the eastern coast of the Black Sea, 
and the southern and western shores of the Cuban. This 
compromise certainly gave the Russian cabinet a legal au- 
thorization for subduing the mountaineers. But who had 
given the Sultan the right to resign them? Like wild-fire the 
rumor of the fourth article in the treaty of Adrianople, which 
made them Russian subjects, spread around in the mountains, 
and where it went, it struck and ignited. The Shapzucks, 
who, in the smaller border-wars, had for centuries ever re- 
mained unvanquished, heard it with angry surprise ; the heroic 
Notachaizes, the monarchs of the sea-shore, with no less 
indignation. In the warlike Abazaks, whose situation on the 
north-eastern declivity of the mountains protected them less 
effectually from the attacks of the powerful Muscovites, it 


HELOISE. 


191 


awakened a greater concern. Enough, in the eyes of all Eu- 
rope, that gigantic ridge, on whose many thousand shelves, in 
whose innumerable clefts and defiles a reckless, unsubdued 
race had, for ages past, built its homesteads in perfect liberty, 
became, in the year 1830, the centre of a Russian province. So 
it could be seen on every Russian map, so it was proved by 
the imperial troops, who, since then, came thither for new 
campaigns, building strongholds on the mountains, amid the 
balls of the Circassians, who were firing upon them from the 
woods, and securing the harbors of the sea-coast by new cas- 
tles and fortresses. 

But, again — who gave the Sultan, whom they reverenced 
as the head of the Faithful, but not as a sovereign, the right 
to yield them up, to give them away like purchased slaves, or 
prisoners won in war? What was the Muscovite emperor, 
the Kjaur , to them? Their burning eyes glanced death and 
destruction, their swords clashed revenge. But jealousy and 
paltry quarrels among themselves, divided the princes. In 
childish strife about a yoke of oxen or a herd of cattle, the no- 
ble blood was spilt, which ought to have defended the Cuban, 
and guarded the coasts. 

It was an intrepid stranger, an Englishman, who, grudging 
the Russian the overland route to India, his nation’s usurped 
inheritance, at last succeeded in uniting the southern moun- 
tain-tribes to one people. Several languages, different in 
root and sound, of obscure origin, like their enmities, carried 
on from generation to generation, and, like these, ancient and 
singular, had until now divided them : now they were united 
by one glowing sentiment — that of hatred against the Musco- 
vite — under the green banner which Beg Daoud* held up 
before them — green like their mountains, green like the color 
of Mecca, the sanctuary of their faith. A gigantic wall 


* As the Circassians call Mr. David Urquhardt. 


192 


HELOISE. 


guarded their liberty. The enemy could only advance step 
by step, and gain the smallest advantages only by ineffable 
sacrifices. The garrisons of the forts were like prisoners, balls 
and arrows awaited those who were sent out to cut the neces- 
sary wood, or to procure provisions, when the ships with 
consignments, or the supplies from the Cuban, were delayed 
too long. The cattle at the foot of the rocks on which the 
strongholds were built, could only graze with a military guard. 
In Anapa, where the water within the fort was unfit for drink- 
ing, and the inhabitants had to be supplied from a well some 
distance off, it could only be obtained under escort of a cannon. 
Professor Nordmann, who landed at Grhelendshik, under 
Russian protection, for the purpose of botanizing, could hard- 
ly carry out his purpose, even with a guard of 150 men, a 
cannon, and a pack of hounds to trace out the Circassians 
who might be hidden in the woods. 

Still, the provinces on the shore, which were defended by 
so many fortifications, seemed the least dangerous to the 
Russians, so that the army moved to and fro mostly on the 
sea-shore. More bloody conflicts were afforded by the expe- 
ditions from the Cuban to the coast through the valleys of the 
Abun, the Aduchum, or others of the broad mountain-passes, 
which were only undertaken by considerable forces. From 
behind and before, on three or four sides at once, armed men 
would rush out, as if by magic, from the thick forests and 
hidden clefts, striking about them with sharp swords ; mostly 
only the twentieth part of the attacked in number, and yet, 
by skill, the quickness of lightning, and a death-defying bra- 
very, always retaining the advantage. No journal gives an 
accurate report of the feats of that heroic race, and history 
will have only a few traits for the composition of the picture 
which she has to draw of them. But these are enough to make 
it a nation of heroes, such as is rarely shown by any period in 
historical antiquity, and then only in those where the struggle 


HELOISE. 


193 


for one of the best treasures of mankind was concerned. The 
intrepidity with which, frequently, a splendidly-armed noble, 
on a white horse, to make himself the more conspicuous, 
would approach one of the Russian forts to within range of 
the artillery, and, amid the balls of the enemy, would challenge 
them to come out and try their skill in single combat, only to 
excite the admiration ofiiis more distant comrades, ought to 
be termed foolhardiness. But the candor of some Russian 
reporters has also informed us of nobler traits of heroism. 

For the narratives of Bell and several other European 
travellers — mortal enemies of the Russian name — which were 
mostly gathered from the lips of the Circassians themselves, 
too often bear the stamp of the fabulous, to be easily credited ; 
while their praises from the lips of their enemies may be relied 
on, and we cannot doubt the cause for the esteem with which 
the latter regard them — often much against their will. 

The Shapzuks and Notachaizes, who, up to the period in 
which our tale falls, had been the foremost in carrying on the 
war, have found in nature itself a powerful protector, and, in 
our day, even a deliverer. For the north-western part of the 
Caucasus, at that time the theatre of war, seems now to have 
been given up by the Russians. But among the no less war- 
like Abazaks, the union against the Muscovites, whom they 
also looked upon with burning hatred, met with greater dif- 
ficulties, and but few princes, particularly among those of 
the eastern regions, were willing to take an oath which ex- 
posed them and theirs to the vengeance of a powerful enemy, 
against whom their brethren beyond the mountains were pro- 
tected by the latter. The power of the chieftains over their 
subjects is much greater in this part of the country than t 
among the western highlands, where most nobles and even 
many a warlike, free peasant, consider the prince as their 
equal. It was therefore important to the Russians here to 


9 


194 


HELOISE. 


gain the princes, as in the other case the people, to their side. 
On the other side of the mountains the garrison of the forts 
had been commanded not to fire at the passing peasants, but 
only to keep their eye on the leaders and nobles. Here the 
princes and higher classes were importuned, threats and pro- 
mises interwoven, to induce them to at least a nominal sub- 
mission, and one artfully stirred up against the other, in 
order to gain, by envy and the exciting of their ignoble pas- 
sions, what their pride and their thirst for liberty denied the 
emperor. The example of the Kabarda was held up, where 
the Russians had already succeeded so far as to be able to 
levy troops with regular, for the present very high, pay, and 
form entire Circassian regiments, which, notwithstanding the 
innumerable deserters, were employed with success against 
their wilder countrymen, the Tshetshenzians and Lesghians. 
There were nobles, however, and not a few, who had followed 
the general example with aversion, but there was also no lack 
of traitors among the higher classes, who, for cash, would 
transmit to the Russian commander the heads of some of his 
opponents. On the whole, however, the voice of this por- 
tion of the people was against the Muscovite, their hereditary 
enemy, and all that had so far been obtained from the prin- 
ces of Psadug, Hatukwoi, and Temigui, whose territory 
touches the Cuban on the north, to the east of the Shap- 
zuks, and of Machosh, close by the latter province, was the 
promise to keep themselves quiet, and not to aid the high- 
landers. 

The Abazaks, spread out over the north-eastern declivity 
of the range, had not even promised as much as that. A 
powerful excitement reigned in their country. In large 
national assemblies they deliberated whether, without rush- 
ing headlong to destruction, they might follow their inclina 
tions, and unite in the same cause with their brethren beyond 


HELOISE. 


195 


the mountains. The messages of the Russian commander-in- 
chief were received with forced politeness, hut the speeches 
of the Shapzuk deputies listened to with much more interest ; 
not without the hope that while they were hesitating, the 
Sultan or England might take their part, and thus put the 
welcome arms into their hands. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


A CIRCASSIAN PRINCE. 

Among the principal men of Abazak there were two in 
particular, whom Count Staden wished to secure, as, in case 
they were gained over to the Russian interest, he could count 
on their being followed not only by the whole of Abazak, but 
also the adjoining provinces. For their influence was con- 
siderable, and their example could hardly be without the 
most important consequences. 

One of these two was Serasker Oglu Mehmet, the Ulysses of 
Circassia ; a man, small in body, lame, and nearly deaf, but with 
a mind so surpassing, a shrewdness so penetrating, that even 
in a country where physical heroism is valued above every 
thing, his authority was not exceeded by that of any other 
chieftain. Since the peace of Adrianople he had kept up an 
apparent friendship with the Russians, and was personally 
acquainted with several of their generals, none of whom, 
however, trusted him entirely. 

The other, still young, and of uncommon beauty, might 
well have been called the Achilles of Circassia. His name 
was Gheri Oglu Mansur, to which his heroic deeds had added 
the term of Arslan, or lion, so that the Russians only knew him 
by the name of Prince Mansur Arslan. As this young hero 
has more to do with our story than his countryman Mehmet, 
it seems appropriate to look at him closely on this his intro- 
duction. 

Prince Mansur Arslan was the great-grandson of the 
builder of Mosdok, the same Korina Kantshogin, who, in the 


HELOISE. 


197 


second half of the last century, had voluntarily surrendered 
himself to Catharine’s sceptre. This step, as well as his 
adopting the Christian religion, which he did from love for 
his Imeretian wife, displeased several of his sons, among whom 
was Mansur’s grandfather, who went to the mountains, and, 
by his martial exploits, soon gained great influence over the 
brave inhabitants of Abazak and Ubuk. Mansur’s father, 
however, had remained with his grandfather, who married him, 
while he was still very young, to a princess of Mingrelia. 
This woman, of distinguished beauty, and with a mind such 
as had probably animated no Oriental princess since the days 
of her grandmother and namesake Tamar, and, with all this, 
a Christian full of glowing zeal, who had only been induced 
to a marriage which led her among infidels, by the hope of 
winning souls for her Saviour, saw with horror, that her hus- 
band, immediately upon his grandfather’s death, which took 
place soon after, adopted the Mahometan religion, and, 
like his father, retired to the mountains, where the hated 
Muscovites, whose insolent treatment of his property had 
often roused his indignation, had not yet gained any influence. 
All the sons which she had borne to her husband grieved her 
by following his example, and the oldest at last turned from 
her entirely, and went to the Turks to serve under the Sultan. 

Only the youngest, Mansur, her tears and supplication^ 
had obtained from her husband, and she could teach him in 
her bedchamber, and when he could hardly lisp the words 
after her, to pray to the Saviour and the Virgin. But no 
entreaties, no resistance could deter Prince Grheri from con- 
signing young Mansur, like his brothers, when he had reached 
his fifth year, after the fashion of the Circassians, to the care 
of an Atalik or foster-father, who was to bring him up to 
manhood. For, according to an ancient, unnatural custom, 
which, strange to say, is common to both the hot-blooded 
Orientals and the heroes of old Iceland, no Circassian father 


198 


HELOISE. 


or mother may educate their sons themselves. Parental love 
might crush the germ of the hero in the tender child, and 
render him effeminate. The hoy therefore, mostly even before 
he is weaned from his mother’s breast, is put under the care 
of another brave man, who makes a hero of him, and whose 
wife is often his nurse. What though all tender feelings are 
thus stifled in the birth, what though the holiest family-ties 
are thus rent asunder — the manly virtues which adorn the Cir- 
cassian hero, and let him regard martial fame as the highest 
treasure, and bold, daring, predatory skill as the most praise- 
worthy of all qualities, are far better developed under the 
care of a worthy Atalik. The latter also takes a certain 
responsibility for the life of his charge ; and when at length 
he brings him home as a youth who has already borne away 
many a head of cattle from a nocturnal attack, and has wet 
his sword with many a drop of blood — whether it be Russian 
or that of a hostile tribe — clad in brilliant armor, which, if the 
Atalik? s means allow it, is a present from the latter, he remains 
during the rest of his life the honored friend of the family, 
and in matters of importance, no step is taken without his 
advice. 

After ten long years of sad yearning, poor Tamar too, 
who had spent that time mostly with her father — an heredi- 
tary Czar of Mingrelia, and subject to the Russian sceptre, 
had the unspeakable joy of embracing her son once more. 
Beautiful as a girl, as she herself had been when she first left 
her native land, but vigorous as a hero, he stood before her. 
Trembling, she led him to her chamber, and bade him kneel 
before the image of the Virgin, to whom she herself sent up 
a prayer with fervent devotion. But Mansur stood by her 
side in embarrassment. True, he had borne the little golden 
cross which she had given him in parting, constantly on his 
heart, as a remembrance of her, but in the land of the Shap- 
zuks, where he had been brought up, he had only occasion- 


HELOISE. 


199 


ally seen persons praying in the mosque, or one or the other 
worshipping fire, water, or stones. What other traces of 
Christian rites had been retained there — for, for centuries 
past, the altars of the cross have been levelled — he had not 
even recognized as remains of his mother’s religion ; so much 
had time disfigured them. However, faithful to her parting 
admonitions, he had often shown the golden cross which she 
had given him on his going among infidels — not without the 
hope that Glod might work a miracle by this young apostle — 
to the daughters of the house, and told them of its sanctity ; 
on which the youngest, a lovely child, who was devotedly at- 
tached to him, had begged him to give her also a little cross, 
which she ever after worshipped. 

But Tamar’s days now grew brighter. It was the ques- 
tion whether Mansur should receive his farther education in 
Constantinople, or St. Petersburg. General Yermoloff, who 
was endeavoring to win the favor of the Abazak chiefs, and 
succeeded in gaining Mansur’s father, decided the matter. 
Mansur was educated in the cadet’s-school in St. Petersburg, 
and took a part in the war with the Persians, under Yermo- 
loff and Paskewitsh. During this time he had acquired a cer- 
tain European culture, but no love for the Russians. After 
the peace, he had no difficulty in obtaining his dismission, 
in order to return to his home, for it was hoped that the rule of 
civilization had gained ground upon him enough to insure a 
beneficial result from his influence on friends and neighbors. 

But Mansur, after throwing himself on his mother’s breast, 
and edifying her by his piety, went to Constantinople, enlisted, 
like his brothers, in the Turkish army, and took a part in 
the unhappy war against the victorious Diebitsh. After the 
peace of Adrianople, which made him a subject of the Empe- 
ror Nicholas, he went to the Shapzuks, and devoted himself to 
the petty, but dangerous border-war, where he repaired his 
injured funds. For all the mathematics and geography, and 


200 


HELOISE. 


all the French which he had learnt at the imperial military 
school, could not make him forget the fruits of his early edu- 
cation — such as perfection in shooting, fencing, and riding, 
and adroitness and contempt of death in marauding — and 
nothing was more profitable than the sale of herds and pri- 
soners of war, whether won in bloody combat or in an attack 
by night on some defenceless village. The mechanical reli- 
gious rites to which he had become accustomed in St. Peters- 
burg, had taught him no better. 

His daring exploits, which were mostly crowned with 
success, soon made him the favorite of his people, and the 
dread of the enemy. To them he owed the name of Arslan. 
Once, however, they very nearly brought him to destruction. 
A band of Shapzuks, among them some of the most cele- 
brated names of the country, were preparing to accomplish 
an extraordinary feat. They intended to surprise Stawro- 
polis — the capital of Caucasia — by night, to punish the mili- 
tary governor, who had, some time ago, offended some of them. 
Mansur called this idea foolhardy, imprudent; for Staw- 
ropolis lies fifty or sixty German miles beyond the eastern bend 
of the Cuban, and to reach it, they would have to travel more 
than two hundred, the last half of them through a country in- 
habited by enemies. But a gentle hint from the lips of one 
of the warriors, that, from his former connection with the Mus- 
covites, he had retained a certain partiality for them, induced 
him to take a part in this hazardous enterprise. 

The band was but small : sixty with Arslan. How the 
reckless adventurers fought their way to Stawropolis, with 
a dozen hair-breadth escapes — how, many a time, they 
had to rely on the lightning-speed of their coursers — of 
this no details are known. Enough, that on the fifth day, at 
twilight, they stood before Stawropolis. They determined 
to await the night, under whose mantle alone they could hope 
to attack a garrison of ten times their number, with some 


HELOISE. 


201 


success. A thick wood in the neighborhood was to conceal 
them till then, and serve as a resting-place for their wearied 
limbs. But a Russian peasant had observed them, and had 
given notice of their presence to the commandant. Before they 
knew it, they found themselves surrounded by three times 
their number of Cossacks. At this sight, they swore to each 
other that none would surrender ; that they would fight their 
way through the enemy, or die together. Their horses, which 
were grazing close by, had, for a short time, to serve as wall 
and breastworks for the combatants. They all discharged 
their muskets at once over the backs of the noble creatures ; 
then, dashing away their pieces, they commenced a furious 
attack on the enemy with their swords, and the combat did 
not end until all the sixty faithful warriors were stretched 
lifeless on the battle-ground, with their trusty steeds beside 
them ; and among them, and all around, the double number 
of Cossacks. 

In two only of the Circassians life was not yet entirely 
extinct: one of these was Mansur Arslan. When he re- 
covered his consciousness, he crept unnoticed among the 
bushes, where he lay for a long time helpless and half dead, 
until at length his youthfully strong constitution triumphed. 
In the greatest agony, and exposed to a thousand dangers, 
he dragged himself to the Cuban, and crossed the river cling- 
ing to a board, which served him for a raft, as he lay extended 
on it. Beyond the Cuban he found kind care, and aid to re- 
turn to Abazak. Here he lay ill of his wounds a long time, 
during which his fond, prayerful mother, whom the news of 
his misfortune had called from a convent to which she had 
retired, did not stir from his bedside. On his final recovery, 
he kept himself quiet, making careful observations as to the 
most effectual means of rescuing his country without sacri- 
ficing the noblest blood, as in the senseless affair at Stawro- 
polis. Yet it was just this adventure, which, in the considera- 

9 * 


202 


HELOISE. 


tion of his countrymen, made him one of their greatest he- 
roes. They gathered around him, they admired him more 
for this than for any of his former exploits. His influence, 
therefore, was great, and necessarily made him terrible to the 
Russians ; for on his will alone did it seem to depend whether 
Abazak was to be at peace or at war with them. And on the 
other side, the connection in which he stood with his maternal 
relations in Mingrelia and Azra, made his influence dangerous 
also in these countries, which, though subject to the Russian 
crown, were by no means devoted to it. 

It was on Prince Mansur Arslan, therefore, that Count 
Staden had fixed his eye particularly, when he requested the 
presence of the chiefs of Abazak and the Cuban at a confe- 
rence in his camp. At the head of the latter was Psugui, 
Prince of Psadug, a country, the western boundary of which 
is a river that divides their territory from that of the Shap- 
zuks, and which empties into the Cuban directly opposite 
Fort Jekaterinodar. This prince, who could muster six thou- 
sand men, had so far kept up a certain independence towards 
the Russians, and had not allowed any of their forts to be 
erected on his domain. His country was remarkable for flour- 
ishing villages, with rich gardens and meadows. His neigh- 
bors on the East and South-east, the princes of Temigui, 
Hatukwoi, and Machosh, were accustomed to depend upon 
him, as the most powerful among them. But he, whose situa- 
tion exposed him to the sweeping grasp of Russia as piuch as 
theirs did them, thought necessary to lean on the,kbazaks, 
whose lands, extended far along the mountain-ridge, bounded 
his on the South, and, in case of need, might serve him and 
his as a place of refuge, without which he felt himself en- 
tirely unable to resist the mighty intruders. Thus it seemed, 
before all, necessary to gain the leaders of Abazak, to insure 
success to a plan, in the execution of which, Count Staden 


HELOISE. 203 

relied mainly on the influence which he was accustomed to 
exercise over all with whom he had personal intercourse. 

His intention, namely, was, firstly — as the Russians had 
already gained considerable free land farther south, i. e., in 
Besni and the Kabarda, and had subdued their former lords — 
to induce also these independent princes of northern Circas- 
sia to sign a document, in which they declared themselves 
vassals of his emperor ; and secondly, to draw from them, by 
stratagem and persuasion, their permission to enlist troops in 
their domains. There was nothing by which he might hope 
to win more favor from his government than by producing 
such a document. And with regard to the second point, a 
new recruiting from the freshest flower of the land itself, was 
made highly desirable, partly by the immense number of those 
who fell in the daily bloody battles and skirmishes, and partly 
by the dreadful mortality among those who became a prey to 
the climate, or withered away pent up in the forts, with the 
most unhealthy food. 

To the urgent invitation, therefore, which was sent to the 
princes, and many of the most influential nobles, were added 
presents, such as must be welcome to the wealthiest Circas- 
sian : rich stuffs, arms, plate, &c., in great variety. An ex- 
change of those Russian prisoners who had been sold as slaves 
to Abazak or the Cuban countries, was the reason expressed 
for the invitation. Serasker Oglu Mehmet excused himself 
on account of illness. Arslan, and with him the princes of 
the Cuban territories, besides numerous nobles from Abazak, 
accepted the invitation. 

Heloise looked forward to their arrival with a lively curi- 
osity. Her father had allowed her to drive, on the evening 
when he expected his guests, in her coach and six, and accom- 
panied by her women, to a point at which he was to meet 
his guests, and there witness the reception. 

About a mile east of Jekaterinodar a shallow place in the 


204 


HELOISE. 


river forms a sort of ford, by which the princes, with a nume- 
rous retinue — almost a hundred men — crossed. Their rich 
dresses, embroidered in gold and silver — their polished arms, 
sparkled dazzlingly in the light of the evening sun, and as 
they galloped along the valley on steeds, so graceful, so fiery 
and proud, and of such fairy lightness, that they seemed to 
have sprung from an enchanted world, the echo of their hoofs 
fell musically on Heloise’s listening ear. 

Now her father too, at the head of his staff, approached 
from the other side. It seemed as if he intended, by marks 
of distinction, greater than his guests could expect, to secure 
from the first a powerful ally in their flattered vanity. The 
count, in his rich general’s-uniform, and all the other officers, 
radiant in the brilliancy of their arms and stars, with fine, 
tight-fitting garments, and military carriage, looked noble 
enough. But far more beautiful and imposing to Heloise was 
the sight of the Oriental warriors, all of them tall, slender 
men, with regular features, in their loose, full garments, 
and seated so gracefully, and with so easy a deportment, on 
their splendid coursers, as if they had spent their lives on 
horseback. 

The place of meeting was about a quarter of a mile east 
of the fort, at a point where the road widened considerably. 
Heloise’s open carriage stood a little on one side. She looked 
inexpressibly lovely, in her light summer dress — for the in- 
tense heat had induced her to lay off for a short time the deep 
mourning which, at the count’s desire, she had worn since the 
death of the prince, her grandfather, for him also. A white 
hat and plume, from which floated a white veil of fairy tex- 
ture, covered her fine head, and her lovely form was only 
transparently hidden by the rich lace shawl around her shoul- 
ders. By her side, a foil to her beauty, as it were, sat 
Kalinoffska in the most gaudy attire ; on the opposite seat 
was Nanny 


HELOISE. 


205 


When the count, with his guests, turned and rode by her 
carriage, he touched his hat to her by way of salute. All the 
officers respectfully followed his example, as did also the Cir- 
cassian princes, who laid their hand on their forehead, without 
looking at her, and doubtless not without an unpleasant sen- 
sation of being obliged to show so much deference to a woman. 
For even the noblest of the sex among the Circassians res- 
pectfully turns aside when she meets a man, to let him pass 
on his own way unhindered, and when she happens to come 
upon a warrior who is standing still, she generally, from pure 
awe, creeps by behind his back. Arslan’s eye alone fell full 
upon her, and remained fixed. There was such an indescri- 
bable fire in his glance, that, much embarrassed, she involun- 
tarily dropped her veil before her face. And yet there was 
nothing insolent in the gaze that thus hung upon her. It was 
but for a moment — the horsemen flew past her. Her carriage 
was slowly following them towards home, when, with surprise, 
she saw the cavalcade halt before the gates of Jekateri- 
nodar. The count had had accommodations prepared in the 
city for some of the chiefs, but it was found that when he 
ordered one of his adjutants to conduct them to their quarters, 
some consternation arose among the Circassians. They looked 
at each other significantly, and none of them showed inclina- 
tion to remain. They were perhaps thinking of the princes 
of the Kabarda, who, some years ago, on a similar occasion, had 
been led away captive to the interior of Russia. The count, 
however, immediately regained his presence of mind, invited 
them all to the camp, and managed to accommodate them all. 

Mademoiselle Kalinoffska and Nanny broke out in praises 
of Arslan’s beauty. u And what flashes of lightning he 
hurled at your honor,” said the latter. u Didn’t he look at 
our gracious countess just as if he wanted to eat her up % 
Such a heathen has a heart, too. But look, your honor, if he 
was the Sultan himself even, I wouldn’t think him good 


206 


HELOISE. 


enough for my dear young lady !” Heloise laughed ; but 
when they arrived at home, soon after, they were struck with 
the disturbed expression of Guasha’s countenance ; she had 
been on the watchtower, to see the chieftains ride past. 

“ Poor child,” said Heloise, compassionately, “ has it agi- 
tated you so much to see your still free countrymen ? Did 
you know any one of them !” she added in Russian. 

Guasha’s cheek grew of a deeper crimson : “ Do I know one 
of them ? Should I not know Arslan Mansur, who was my 
father’s pupil ?” 

“Was he that? But you must have been a little child 
at that time. I have heard his history. He has been edu- 
cated in St. Petersburg since his fifteenth year.” 

“And did he not come back to us, to help his people 
resist the malice of the Muscovite? And do not all the 
maidens speak of him, and all the minstrels sing of him ? 
Who should not know the young lion? His Atalik was 
called happy, to have educated him. At Stawropolis he lay 
on the battle-ground with two of my brothers. Oh, countess, 
thou art right — I was still young, I was yet a child when I saw 
him daily. But he kindly played with the child. He taught 
me to worship his God ; he gave me this.” She took out her 
little silver cross, and a large, hot tear fell upon it. He- 
loise thought she could look into the poor girl’s heart. She 
was silent, but Nanny, less delicate, said : “ And when he came 
back, you were a large girl. Did he remember the cross then?” 

“ Indeed he thought of it, Nanny, and he asked me if I 
had it yet, and I told him that I wore it on my heart, for 
he is like my brother. Then he said, 1 I wish thou couldst 
marry a Christian, Guasha, but no Muscovite.’ ” 

“ And why did he not marry you himself?” asked Nanny, 
boldly. 

Guasha’s face again turned crimson. She cast a long, 
burning look on Nanny — and then her eyelids, with their 


HELOISE. 


207 


fringes of dark and long lashes, slowly fell. It seemed as if 
a curtain suddenly shut out the sun from a maiden’s cham- 
ber. “ He cannot do that,” she said, in a low voice, 11 he is a 
prince, and I only a nobleman’s daughter. No man of honor 
marries beneath his rank.” 

“ There he ought to have let the Muscovite teach him 
better,” cried Nanny. u Even the emperor’s brother has 
done it. You would have made a handsome couple.” Guasha 
turned away half embarrassed, half offended. But Heloise 
requested Nanny to be silent. She was kinder than ever to 
Guasha. For did she not know, but too well, what it was to 
love hopelessly ? 

On the following day a magnificent entertainment was to 
be given to the guests. The count had the arms of civilization 
in readiness against them. A feast was contemplated, which 
the ladies were to adorn with their presence. The lady and 
daughters of the commandant, Princess Gawriloff — who was 
awaiting the recovery of her son — and a few other officers’ 
wives, staying at Jekaterinodar, to be near their hus- 
bands, were invited to form Heloise’s court. The general’s 
large tent had been transformed, as if by magic, into a 
splendid apartment, fitted out with furniture, carpets, and 
draperies of all kinds, which had been brought from Tagan- 
rog by special express. But the most imposing decoration 
was a significant one : the polished, elegant arms which were 
suspended all around, arranged in arabesques, and interwoven 
with oak-leaves. War or peace was here to be offered to the 
impetuous heroes. 

The count, with an ease peculiar to himself, found means to 
force the latter into the observance of European customs. 
He announced to them, with the consciousness of doing them 
an uncommon honor, that his daughter would receive them 
in her apartments at an early hour, for which interview he 


208 


HELOISE. 


had also prepared Heloise. It was only upon the five noblest 
of the guests, however, that this honor was conferred. 

The prince of Temigui was the least in power, among the 
chieftains, and had not acquired, either by a remarkable de- 
gree of bravery or wisdom, an important influence. But he 
was an old man, nearly seventy years of age. For this reason 
the precedence was given him on all occasions , for the Cir- 
cassians reverence age with a piety which recalls to us 
the manners of the Spartans. No one sat down, while he 
was standing ; no one remained seated, when he rose. He 
was followed by Psugui, Prince of Psadug, the first in power ; 
a man of noble deportment, cautious demeanor, and gentle 
manners. He had married the daughter of a Crimean Czar, 
and had often come in contact with the Russians, whose lan- 
guage he understood somewhat. The clearest proof of the 
respect in which Mansur Arslan was held, and of the high 
station in which his heroism and energy had placed him, 
was, that notwithstanding his youth, his voice was of more 
importance in the council than that of any other, and that 
even on extraordinary occasions, only the two above-men- 
tioned chiefs preceded him. With Heloise he was of course 
the spokesman, as he had acquired the French language at 
St. Petersburg. So that, after Heloise and Prince Psugui 
had exchanged a few salutations and civilities in broken 
Russian, she had to carry on the conversation with him 
alone, while the rest — all of them fine, handsome men— 
looked on with that proud Oriental indifference, which ap- 
pears to the European like contempt. Arslan, to be sure, 
did not speak French with Count Dabanoff’s elegance, but 
every word that he said was rendered important by the ex- j 
pressive glances which accompanied it. Heloise had never 
seen a nobler-looking man. The high forehead, the delicate, 
straight nose, the finely-formed mouth, seemed to belong to 


HELOISE. 


209 


a G-reek statue ; but from the dark, burning eyes there shone 
a rich, vigorous life, and the consuming fire of the Orient. 
He wore the Turkish turban, richly-embroidered garments, 
and the hilt of his sword, as also the dagger in his belt, were 
set with jewels. - 

“ I am happy, prince,” said Heloise, “ to welcome in you 
a Christian.” 

“ As a son I am a Christian,” replied Arslan ; “ it is the 
religion of war and of suffering.” 

“ It is the religion of peace and reconciliation, prince,” 
said Heloise, gently. 

“ Ho not your Christian princes war against each other, 
countess ?” asked Arslan. 

“ Would to God,” replied Heloise, “ that they would 
better obey the precepts of their religion !” 

u Ho you not think, countess, that St. George was a good 
Christian ? And do not all pictures represent him as fight- 
ing and killing ?” 

u Fighting with monsters, killing dragons — yes.” 

“ Perhaps the painters meant the monsters of oppression, 
the dragons of extortion and official rapacity.” 

Heloise felt that he was right, and changed the subject. 
She spoke of Guasha, who, with her other attendants, was 
standing in the antechamber through which the princes had 
I passed. Arslan had recognized her. 

“ Is she not happy in serving you ?” he inquired. 

u She loves me, but she would be happier among her 
mountains. Could not some of her relations be found in her 
country, who would be glad to receive her ? I myself have 
endeavored, but in vain, to find, among the prisoners, traces 
of her mother, or sisters-in-law. Oh, prince, can you not do 
your best to put an end to this terrible trade, of which, among 
my people, nothing is known ?” 

He looked at her fol a moment, with a peculiar expres- 




210 


HELOISE. 


sion. “ Ah ! countess,” he said, significantly, “ do you do 
your best to put a stop to it !” 

“ Good God !” she cried, “ what could I do V* 

11 Beauty is all-powerful in the East as woll as in the 
West,” he replied, and the fire in his eyes grew wilder. 

u I did not know,” answered Heloise, smiling, but with- 
out satisfaction, u that the Oriental knights also practise 
gallantry.” 

“ From the lips of the Oriental that is a sentiment which 
from those of the European is a gallantry.” 

“ And what can you do for Guasha ?” asked Heloise, turn- 
ing the subject. 

“ I will send her to my mother. She will have her bap- 
tized, and procure an asylum for her in her convent ; for she 
does not wish to marry. There she can weep for her loved 
ones undisturbed.” 

Heloise had not time to ascertain whether this answer 
was heartless, or betrayed a deep feeling. The old chieftain 
rose, and with him the others. Soon after she heard them 
galloping away. 

She now proceeded to her toilet, and called Guasha to 
braid her hair. While the girl was taking down the latter, . 
and she could not look in her face, she told her, in a few 
words, that she had spoken of her to Arslan. “Would you 
like to go to his mother ?” she asked, without mentioning the 
convent. 

But Guasha, without answering, pulled her hair about, 
and passed the comb through it with such violence that He- 
loise looked round in surprise. Guasha looked pale and ha- 
rassed. A deep sorrow played convulsively around her mouth. 

“ What ails you, Guasha ?” asked Heloise, with an affec- 
tionate glance. 

“ He loves thee, countess,” said the girl, fixing her eye 
upon her. 


HELOISE. 


211 


“ Nonsense !” replied Heloise, blushing. “ He hardly 
knows me.” 

“ Love needs no long acquaintance. One glance is enough. 
He saw thee, who art so beautiful, and loved thee. I know 
it from Nanny.” 

“ I beg of you, be quiet,” said Heloise, with a half-guilty 
feeling, and resumed her seat before the glass. “ Let me 
braid my hair myself ; you are agitated, and pull it too much.” 

Oh no, no, I will do it ! I will adorn thee, I will make 
thee beautiful for — ” 

But Heloise stopped her by a serious look. Guasha con- 
tinued her work with trembling hands, though apparently 
somewhat calmer, and successfully finished her task. But 
when she was about fastening a richly-embroidered gauze 
veil to her mistress’s back hair, she suddenly pricked her 
so violently in the head with the pearl brooch which she had 
in her hand, that Heloise sprang up in alarm. But Guasha 
rushed from the room, sobbing loudly, to her chamber. “Poor, 
poor heart !” thought Heloise, and summoned Nanny to wash 
the blood from her hair. 

Our heroine looked most enchanting, as, with her zephyr-like 
white robes thrown around her, like a veil of clouds, she stood 
in the midst of the warriors : for the looks of all were turned 
only upon her — all the other women disappeared beside her. 
The eyes of one, above all, tore themselves forcibly away, only 
to fall back upon her, as if dreaming, a moment after. A 
long, rich table was spread, at which Heloise was to preside. 
The prince of Psadug and Arslan were seated beside her, 
and next the. former, Princess GawrilofF. The other ladies 
were distributed among the higher officers. In another, 
adjoining division of the tent, carpets were spread, on which 
the viands were served on large waiters with low feet, for 
those of the Circassians who disdained or found it inconve- 
nient to eat in the Occidental style. By far the greatest 


212 


HELOISE. 


number of the princes and nobles stretched themselves 
around the latter. The count and his adjutants did not sit 
down at the table, so as to be every where and best provide 
for their guests. The former displayed all his amiability. 
There was no lack of rich and rare wines, and but few of the 
Circassians were sufficiently strict Mahometans to refuse 
them. 

Meanwhile Heloise, remembering G-uasha, had almost lost 
her ease under Arslan’s consuming glances, particularly as 
she remarked that her father’s eye rested on her and her 
neighbor from time to time, with a peculiar expression. There 
was something lurking in his look. She at first concluded 
that he was watching her, to see how, little accustomed as 
she was to representation, she would behave in her new situ- 
ation. Then, when Arslan’s fire, increased by the wine, 
broke out more conspicuously, she thought that his behavior 
troubled her father. But he gave no signs of either one or 
the other. On the contrary, he treated her with the greatest 
respect, and the young prince with a distinction which was 
remarked by all, and obviously gratified his pride. 

Heloise asked Arslan to tell her about his mother. He 
did so with warmth, and a certain deep pity, which Heloise 
understood well. Thus they came to speak of the situation 
of the women among the Circassians. “ It is not as you ima- 
gine it, countess,” he said ; “ for you know us only from the 
reports of our enemies. It is true, the women serve in my 
country, but beauty reigns,” he added, with a burning glance 
which was not to be misunderstood. 

“ Your remark makes the evil still greater, in my opinion,” 
replied Heloise, thinking of Leonora’s words: ‘Were there 
but men — ’ etc.* “ If you understood my language, I could 

* “Were there hut men, who knew to estimate 
A woman’s heart ; who could but recognize 
The treasure, boundless, rich, of love and truth, 


HELOISE. 


213 


prove it to you by the most beautiful, the most delicate ver- 
ses that have ever been written. Beauty is not the best of 
us. It is but a transient, uncertain treasure. It is our sex, 
our weakness itself, which you must honor, and we only honor 
a man in as far as he does so.” 

“ It is true,” rejoined Arslan, with some scorn, “ we have 
still much to learn. But instruction-books are not written 
with the point of the sword. Why have the Christian powers 
never sent us an apostle ? Perhaps you know, fair countess, 
that it was a woman, one from whom the race of my mother 
derives its origin, who first introduced Christianity among 
these mountains. And what one woman has laid the foun- 
dation for — would it be impossible for another to build that 
up again ? Another, who is surely lovelier and holier than 
Tamar can ever have been ?” 

Heloise looked at him in confusion, but the piercing, pas- 
sionate glance which replied to hers, explained to her his 
meaning. “Is it possible?” she thought, “can he have 
formed such an insane idea?” She spoke of other things, 
but he knew how to turn every subject upon her, and she 
saw plainly how, with impetuous rapidity, his hope increased 
with his desire. At length, when her father, with an artful 
glance upon her, approached her, she requested his permis- 
sion to give the signal to rise. 

The afternoon had been fixed upon by the count for a con- 

Which is contained within a woman’s breast ; 

If but your glance, which elsewhere penetrates, 

Could also pierce beyond the veil which oft 
By age or sickness is thrown over us ; 

If that possession, which should quiet you, 

Would not awake desire for other’s goods — 

A joyful day would then for us have risen, 

And we would celebrate our golden age.” 


Goethe’s Tasso. 


214 


HELOISE. 


ference with the Circassians, who, if they had considered the 
matter beforehand, would not perhaps have chosen such a 
time for the transaction of important business. For the wine 
and strong spices had risen into the heads of several, and all 
felt heavy and heated. But the count had paper and writing- 
materials in readiness. He first conferred with them all 
« together, and then with several of them privately. His inter- 
view with Arslan was particularly long. When they at length 
separated, the young man’s eyes sparkled with joy. Any one 
who took particular notice of the count might have found his 
handsome face disfigured by a certain sneering triumph, which 
he easily concealed from more superficial observers under an 
expression of polite gayety. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


FATHER AND DAUGHTER ONCE AGAIN. 

Heloise felt considerably relieved, when she was again seated 
on her sofa at home. She could not but think with some unea- 
siness of the burning passion which spoke from Arslan’s looks. 
“ Could he really be senseless enough to think that I would 
be willing to follow him to his mountains, to weave for him, 
and stuff his divans with wool, and whitewash the walls of his 
house, as, by G-uasha’s report, the princesses do in his coun- 
try ?” She laughed. “ Well, if not just that, if even he were 
to promise me that I should do nothing but embroider and 
make preserves, can he really think for a moment that a Rus- 
sian general would give him his daughter?” A misgiving 
crept over her heart, a slight mistrust in her father — when his 
crafty smile, his lurking glances, came up before her soul’s 
eye — that he might perhaps take advantage of the young man’s 
passion, to entice him to desert the cause of his people. But 
she repulsed the idea with horror. “ The brother of my foster- 
mother, my father, cannot commit so base, so treacherous 
an act.” 

In the evening he came himself, at a later hour than he 
had ever before visited her. His step was that of triumph, 
his countenance wore the supercilious expression of success. 

“Well, Heloise,” he said, with a smile, “how are you sa- 
tisfied with your day’s work? I see you understand more than 
spinning yarn j you know how to weave nets from it, to capture 
young lions.” 


216 


HELOISE. 


u My dear father” — interrupted Heloise, in a supplicating 
tone. 

“ Really,” he continued, laughing, the order of St. Catharine 
cannot escape you, so great are the services which you render 
to the crown. No, the large cross of St. George, rather, for you 
have taken one of the chief fortresses. I hardly thought, when 
you arrived here, that we could make such good use of you. But 
when you came gliding along, like a sylph sprung from ano- 
ther world, just as if a white lily had come to life, and had 
suddenly been endowed with lips and eyes, I would have defied 
any one to resist you. If you were to try, you might gain 
them all for me, the old one with the white beard perhaps 
excepted. If we only once have the young lion securely 
bound — how says your poet? — 

‘ Soon as he’s undone, 

Others must be won, 

And the youths to passion victims fall.’ ”* 

He laughed aloud. Heloise almost doubted her senses. 
She hardly knew her father. He had made up for the lost 
dinner by a late supper, and had become — a very rare thing 
for him, however — considerably excited by wine, so that he 
was rather more sincere than he intended to be. But his 
daughter’s look of astonishment soon brought him to himself. 

“ I do not understand you, father,” she said, gravely. 

“ Not ? Can it have escaped your notice that you have 
made a conquest of Prince Mansur, the young, wild lion, 
who, until now, in spite of all endeavors, has remained un- 
tamed ?” 

“ I have indeed remarked that his heart, which probably 
takes fire very easily, has also been kindled by me. But 




* Goethe’s Bride of Corinth. 


HELOISE. 


217 


what is that to us 1 The flame will die away again as quickly 
as it rose at first.” 

“ Hardly ; particularly if we stir the fire awhile, until we 
have warmed ourselves by it.” 

“ And what good would that do you, father ?” inquired 
Heloise, fixing a look of holy purity upon him ; u what good 
would that do you, even if it were honorable ?” 

“ Oho ! so you do not like him ?” 

“ Like him ? I think, father, that he is a noble man — he 
looks to me as if he might be a great man — yes, father, as 
if he might once be the deliverer of his country.” 

The count’s face turned dark-crimson : “ I see, Heloise, 
you are leagued with the enemy.” 

“ Dearest father, I did not mean that. But I would 
wish that you could make these brave men, these friends of 
their people, friends of your emperor.” 

u That is just what I would do.” 

“ But without debasing them, father ?” 

u Hm ! I do not consider myself so very base. So you 
do like him, Heloise — this young lion ?” 

a What do you mean by my liking him ? Such a liking 
as, from your smile, I should judge you had reference to, is 
of course out of the question.” 

' And why so ?” 

“ Father !” cried Heloise, with horror ; “ you cannot think 
of giving me to a barbarian, a partial Mussulman !” 

u And why not, to a brave man, the friend and future 
deliverer of his people, who would debase himself by swear- 
ing allegiance to the emperor ?” 

u Father, I cannot understand you ; you cannot be in 
earnest. It does not follow, because a man is brave, that he 
is cultivated — his people are not my people — the wild inde- 
pendence which constitutes his happiness, cannot satisfy me.” 

“ What difference does all that make, Heloise ?” replied 
10 


218 


HELOISE. 


her father, perfectly calm, while she grew more and more 
excited. “ You are the daughter of a princess,” he added, 
with a sarcastic smile ; “ royal suitors are not to he found 
every day. If you do not take a Circassian prince, you must 
perhaps take up with a mere nobleman.” 

Heloise looked into his eyes with painful earnestness. 
Then, suddenly springing towards him, she twined her arms 
around his neck : “No, father, no !” she cried, and a torrent 
of tears burst from her eyes ; “ you cannot mean so, you can- 
not wish to sacrifice your child thus !” 

The count pressed her close to his breast, and looked 
down upon his beautiful daughter with no small degree of 
paternal tenderness. “ Well, if you know me so well, then, I 
must fain give up to you. You need not fear ; I am not the 
fool to throw away my best jewel. My jewel” — he added, 
regarding her with satisfaction — “ that would adorn a crown, 
to a robber-chief ! But — no matter — it will be good for him 
to be kept for awhile in his bold belief.” 

“ It cannot be that he has hope !” cried Heloise, in 
alarm. 

“ But he does hope, for he is young and presumptuous. 
And besides, his ancestor, he thinks, was as well a sovereign 
as the emperor of the Muscovites ; and is not his mother the 
daughter of a Czar ? What say you to resolving to become 
princess of the Kabarda, to subject the untamed highland- 
ers to your gentle sceptre, and, like Arslan’s great-grand- 
mother, to lead the wild Georgians, the Circassian moun- 
taineers, to Christianity ? Could you perhaps be induced to 
pay a trifling tribute to the emperor, and to recognize his 
supremacy ?” 

The scornful tone into which the count had relapsed, was 
painful to Heloise’s feelings. She looked at him search- 
ingly. “ Can it be,” she said at length, u that the young 
man, little acquainted with European relations, has really 


HELOISE. 


219 


formed this ambitious plan ? Well, as far, at least, as the 
part in it which he has assigned to your daughter, is con- 
cerned, you can easily have enlightened him.” 

u For what? Can it injure your reputation to have him, 
for a few months, consider you as his betrothed ? I will ex- 
plain the true state of things to him in due time.” 
j 11 Father, would that be honorable? Would it even be 
humane, to let him fall a victim to such a delusion ?” 

“ Is it perhaps humane to let hundreds of thousands be 
sacrificed for his dream of liberty, his excessive pride ? This 
fruitful land shall have peace, and this poor people quiet, as 
soon as the haughty chiefs will submit.” 
a But the other princes ?” 

u Each one has his price. The eyes of him of Hatukwoi 
sparkle when he only sees a piece of gold. What avarice 
will work in one, ambition will in another. If I can but 
secure Arslan, I am sure of them all.” 

“ And will he not, in the end, discover the deception, and 
then recall every thing? And will not the nobles revolt 
against him, if they hear that he was about to betray them?” 

u The most influential of the nobles, as you call them, are 
here expressly to enable me to secure them. You can dis- 
tinguish them by their red shoes — in cultivation you would 
hardly find them different from their grooms. But I must 
say, Heloise, that you make use of extremely mild expres- 
sions : i Deception !’ 1 Treachery !’ Romantic virtues cannot 
well be exercised in politics.” 

“ And will the people submit, father,” asked Heloise, 
after sadly meditating awhile , 11 even if the principal chiefs 
set them the example ?” 

“ As soon as I have secured their signatures, and, with 
their consent, the levying of troops has commenced, I shall 
have advanced by a considerable step. Among this people, 
who have grown up under arms, I do not fear a scarcity of 


220 


HELOISE. 


recruits. In tlie Kabarda we might have as many as we 
wished. It probably does not make much difference to the 
people, for whom and for what they fight, and a silvet' -rouble 
a day is not to be despised.” 

“And the princes have consented — they have under- 
signed ?” 

“ They have not yet given a definite consent, and only 
promised to undersign; for to-morrow morning, I have in- 
duced them to give an exhibition of their skill in combat and 
horsemanship. Nothing flatters their vanity more. You la- 
dies shall witness their feats. The afternoon is fixed upon for 
a final conference, for they intend to leave the day after to- 
morrow. To-morrow afternoon they must be mine.” 

Heloise sat silent for a long time, absorbed in painful 
reflections, while her father also followed his meditations. At 
length she spoke : 

“ Father, I cannot take a part in your game. I shall tell 
Arslan, to-morrow, that I do not love him ; that no power on 
earth could induce me to give him my hand.” 

“ Do as you please,” replied the count, with forced indif- 
ference, “ only do not hope to accomplish any thing by that. 
It will not discourage him. The Circassians are accustomed 
to buy their wives from their fathers. He thinks to have 
bought you from me, only that the price does not consist in 
cattle and carpets, but in what he calls the liberty of his peo- 
ple, and in his own haughty independence. We are to make 
him prince of the Kabarda. He promises, in that case, to 
win the mountaineers over to our cause, and thus enlarge his 
own kingdom. Hm ! no bad idea ! 

“ But it is growing late,” continued the count, rising. 
“ One thing more, Heloise ! I require nothing of you — no 
dissimulation, no advances ; be as cold and distant as you 
wish. Only do not, uncalled-for, and with childish hands, 
meddle with my web, so as to entangle the threads. The af- 


HELOISE. 


221 


fair with Arslan remains a secret for the present, so that it 
will not impose a great restraint upon you. Or rather,” he 
added, with a slight, contemptuous smile, “ each one of them 
has his secret with me. Good night ; I trust to your pru- 
dence.” 

When, in parting, he kissed her forehead, he felt how icy 
cold she was ; but he did not wish to take any notice of it. 
He would hardly have desired to have seen her contented. 
u She does not know the world,” he thought, as he rode home ; 
a she grew up in the country. Heaven knows how my sister, 
who was herself educated at court, can have kept her in such 
a dream of virtue. But she was herself somewhat exalted in 
her ideas — and I loved her all the more for that purity, which 
becomes woman so well !” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


A LETTER. 

The count had left Heloise indescribably unhappy. By de- 
grees the ideal image of her father, which she had brought 
with her to the confines of Europe, had broken down entirely. 
Piece by piece, parts had fallen off from the statue that she 
had erected him in her heart, which she had thought indis- 
pensable in a being that is pleasing in the sight of God : 
first, mercy ; then, justice and holy faith ; and -now, truth. 
She knew that her father was harsh, sometimes to inhumanity ; 
he despised mankind ; he had renounced his youth and its 
fruits, and lived only as a citizen of his new country, as a war- 
rior. All this had often pained her. But ah ! she had hoped 
that he fought only with honorable weapons ! That, like the 
tempter, he should have found a price for all ; that, with such 
terrible coldness, so heartlessly, he should spin the threads in 
which to entangle the enemy, and should know how to draw 
them into the net with such craftiness — all this depressed 
her deeply, so deeply that she thought never to be able to 
raise herself again. She the daughter of an — impostor l 
» Would not, in narrower spheres, in less important relations, 
any/one who acted thus, be called by that name ? Could she 
still love, still esteem such a father ? 

The count was right when he said to himself that Heloise 
did not know the world. She knew nothing of the irresist- 
ible and demoralizing influences of the world in general, and of 


HELOISE. 


223 


diplomatic relations and a warrior’s life in particular, in both 
of which the count had acquired experience. Was there one 
among Lutzow’s black and red band who had fought with a 
warmer love for the German common fatherland and for its 
liberty — who had hated the oppressor with a purer, less selfish 
hatred than he ? His own father had been raised to appa- 
rently great honors by the tyrant, but that did not lessen the 
virtuous aversion of the son, who, with pure burning hate — 
like spotless, entire, sacrificing love in the stronger sex, the 
noble privilege of youth — had stood up against the tyrant, 
just because he was a tyrant. This feeling was still powerful 
within him, when he allowed himself to be carried away by 
passion to take the imprudent step of a secret marriage. But 
it was just this step that gave the first occasion to initiate 
him in the trivialities of the life of intrigue at one of the 
small German courts, which filled his soul with disgust. 

After this, his flight, the necessity of making his own way, 
and his ambition, which awoke with might, led him into that 
world of poisonous plants, the relations of Kussian life and ser- 
vice. His ill luck involved him, from the beginning, deeply 
in the Russian- Oriental affairs. The seventeen years that 
had passed since his flight, he had spent principally — 
with the exception of the Polish campaign, which did not 
better the case much — in the wars with the Persians, Turks, 
and Tartars, or in the administration of the Russian-Oriental 
provinces. Among these connections, where brutality and 
intrigue, temerity and cowardice, despotism and servility, 
often meet in such strong contrast, his nice German point of 
honor had at first sickened, and at length become extinct; 
his moral sense had grown dim. He saw, all around, the ipost 
shameless extortions practised with impunity, and hardly even 
censured by public opinion ; he saw human beings treated like 
things, and — what had still more quickly taught him to despise 
them — saw them submit to it. His youth lay behind him 


224 


HELOISE. 


like a dream ; his ambition, swelling to a passion, threatened 
to crowd all other feelings from his soul. 

Only a letter from his sister, the oldest and best friend of 
his youth, to whose wisdom and goodness he had always looked 
up, would from time to time carry him back to his purer past 
for a moment ; every other tie was broken. He belonged to 
the present, and, by his ambitious plans, to the future. 

In the night following his interview with Heloise, there 
occurred one of the rare, but violent thunder-storms of those 
regions, and the rain poured down in such torrents the next 
morning, that the warlike sports, for which preparations had 
been made, had to be suspended. Towards noon, however, 
the sky seemed to look more clear. The general, therefore, 
did not wish the conference which had been fixed for the after- 
noon, to be postponed ; but the younger of the nobles, who had 
justly hoped to gain much honor by the racing, target-shoot- 
ing, and tilting, which had been promised them, manifested 
such ill-humor at the idea of not taking advantage of the 
cooler weather which was so favorable to their sports, that the 
chieftains urged the Russian commander to postpone the 
conference till the next morning, and volunteered to remain 
a day longer. The count suppressed his impatience, so as not 
to awaken suspicion, and gave his consent, although very 
reluctantly ; for he had lived, for the last few days, in the 
greatest suspense. 

Heloise passed the morning in irresolution. What could 
she do? She felt decidedly that she must let the chiefs and 
nobles of the Cuban provinces go their own way. But was 
it not her duty to warn Arslan, who, from blind passion for 
her, for the sake of possessing her, was about perhaps to 
plunge into destruction, and was drawing upon himself, with- 
out compensation, the reproach of being the traitor of his 
country ? “ He deserves nothing better,” she said, with bitter- 
ness; “if he is willing to sell the liberty of his country for a 


HELOISE. 


225 


mock-crown, and the satisfaction of an amorous whim, it is 
but just that he should be disappointed in such wicked hopes !” 
And yet her soul was moved with a deep pity for the beautiful, 
gallant youth. What young girl will not sympathize with 
her? 

She could not bear to think that she should first be the 
bait to make him faithless to what he considered conformable 
to his duty and honor, and then so cruelly deceive him. 

When she learnt that the conference had been postponed 
till the next morning, and that she would have occasion to 
meet Arslan once more, she formed her plan. She would 
repulse him so completely, by a cold, haughty demeanor, that 
he would be disheartened, and if this were not sufficient, she 
would herself seek an interview with him, to declare to him 
that he could never hope for her consent — without, however, 
exposing her father. 

Nanny, when she saw her young mistress so sad, lingered 
around, and made herself sundry errands in the room. As 
Guasha had hardly made her appearance since the morning 
before, but sat in her chamber, working, and entirely neglected 
her duties as waiting-maid, Nanny had taken her place. “We’ll 
let her have her cry out,” said the latter, “ love flows away at 
last drop by drop. She knows herself that she can’t get 
him, for they’ve got queer laws about rank. It’s worse, even, 
than the spirit of caste, as my good father used to call it, in 
the Austrian country. But if he’s too high for her, he’s yet a 
few steps too low for my young countess, that’s a fact. Your 
honor wonders, don’t you, that I should know any thing about 
it ? But servants, your honor may believe, have good eyes. 
And if they’d been blind, they’d have had to see how he 
devoured the fair countess with his eyes yesterday, the fire 
shone so bright out of them.” 

“ Let the matter rest, dear Nanny,” said Heloise. 

« Well, well,” replied the other, “ but I only just wanted 
10 * 


226 


HELOISE. 


to say, as far as the servants are concerned, they make the 
best spies. Your honor remembers, perhaps, what I talked 
about the first evening, before I knew who the beautiful 
young lady was ?” 

“ Yes, and you probably remember, too, that frequently, 
when you have hinted at it since, I have asked you not to say 
any thing about it.” 

“ And I’ve obeyed my young countess, though it’s almost 
made my heart burst sometimes. What do you think, your 
honor? since then I’ve hoped day and night, that my count- 
ess would find out that I’m set here to be a spy upon her. 
But no such thing. Your honor lives more in heaven than 
on earth.” 

At this point Heloise’s curiosity could resist no longer. 
“What do you mean, Nanny?” she asked. 

Nanny smiled in quiet triumph, and said slyly : “ For the 
present, your honor needn’t be afraid of getting a step-mother.” 
And when Heloise looked at her inquiringly, — ■“ Soon after 
your honor came here, his Excellency broke off" with my 
princess.” 

“ And who has made you a spy, Nanny ?” 

“Well, your honor, you see, not half a month had gone, 
before there came a letter to me from my old mistress, and 
in it she told me the finest things, how she’d always liked 
me so well, and how she’ll reward me if I’ll find out what’s 
the reason that the count has broken off with her, and says 
she feels perfectly innocent. Innocent ! He, he, he ! And 
she wants to know if it’s the daughter that hates her so, and 
that’s put her papa against her. So I wrote to her that she 
could be sure that wasn’t so, the countess was a saint, that 
didn’t hate a living soul, but I’d try to find out what was the 
reason. For she gives very handsome presents !” 

“ Well, and what have you found out, Nanny?” 

“ Oh nothing ! For knowing and imagining are two dif* 


HELOISE. 


227 


ferent things. I’ve had my own thoughts about it, to he sure, 
but I haven’t said any thing about them — thoughts are toll- 
free, your honor knows. So I have thought, in my mind, his 
Excellency’s old sovereign’s dead now, and so he’s become 
the brother-in-law of the new one, and a real member of a 
German royal family ; so he might do better. Such a hand- 
some man as the count is, particularly, and such a great 
warrior — any German princess would be glad to have him. 
And one of those is rather more than such a Mongolian 
Knjdgina * with her broad nose and her painted cheeks. He 
never could have liked her by daylight ; she’s older than he, 
too, and if she is mighty rich, she isn’t the only one.” 

“ Nanny,” said Heloise, embarrassed, and avoiding the 
sly glance of her attendant, a how you talk !” The blood had 
mounted to her face while the other was speaking — she thought 
it but too probable that the shrewd woman had guessed right. 
She broke off the conversation abruptly, but not without ex- 
periencing a certain satisfaction that for the present, at least, 
nothing was to be feared from that quarter. 

When she reached the camp, all the other ladies were 
already assembled, and her arrival only had been waited for 
to commence the martial representation. A sort of staging 
had been erected for the ladies, on which Heloise occupied 
the place of honor. It was surrounded by whole troops of 
infantry officers on horseback, while on both sides, a short 
distance off, the soldiers were stationed in files, as spectators. 
The cavalry occupied the most remote portion of the camp, 
and did not make its appearance during the visit of the Cir- 
cassian princes. For the Cossacks, as their most inveterate 
enemies, the count did not wish to bring into the slightest 
contact with them, and the heavy cavalry was the weakest 


* The Russian word for princess. 


228 


HELOISE. 


part of the army : which deficiency he preferred rather to 
conceal than to show. 

On the other side he had ordered the martial pageants to 
he commenced with the exhibition of a regiment of cavalry 
which did not belong to the regular troops, and had been 
drilled in the Circassian manner. It consisted of Kabardines, 
G-eorgians, ransomed prisoners, who had become familiar with 
the Circassian military exercise, but principally of deserters. 
It was most splendidly equipped, and while, with national 
activity and the rapidity of lightning, it combined the precision 
and uniformity of well-disciplined troops, it could well pre- 
sent the ideal of a carefully- trained body of soldiers. The 
count had, in this exhibition, a three-fold object. First he 
wished to show the chieftains the esteem in which he held 
their manner of fighting — for he had drilled this regiment 
himself ; then they were to see how many of their valiant 
men he had already gained possession of ; and lastly, he hoped, 
by this example, to reconcile them to the thought of seeing 
their own friends and relations among this number. 

The chieftains looked on in silence, and none of the ex- 
pected impressions could be read in their faces of marble, 
whose rigid Oriental regularity is only moved by the storms 
of passion — by no lurking thought, no passing emotion, 
whether of satisfaction or displeasure. 

Now commenced the martial sports of the Works and 
Tokavs , i. e. the nobles and freemen. The princes, with the 
exception of Mansur Arslan, were mere spectators. The lat- 
ter had not been able to withstand the temptation to show him- 
self to the young countess in his most brilliant light, and his 
own youth seemed to obviate the impropriety of his partici- 
pation. As he sat there, on the proud, fiery, Georgian steed, 
in his brilliant armor, his breast covered with a coat of mail 
of the finest workmanship, and a silver network helmet of pecu- 
liar shape on his head, he recalled to Heloise’s mind all the 


IIELOISE. 


229 


charms of chivalry. Thus Rinaldo, thus Amadis must have 
looked ! She had to extricate herself by main force from the 
magic illusion with which the living romance of his appear- 
ance surrounded her. The steed, too, under him, an ideal of 
noble beauty, of a shining silver-gray, and looking about with 
marvellous intelligence, seemed to feel the honor of bearing 
such a rider. It drow itself up proudly, danced about grace- 
fully on its slender legs, and its nostrils, scenting the com- 
bat, breathed forth its hardly to be restrained impatience. 
And when the racing commenced, onward it flew, quick as 
thought, hardly touching the ground with its feet, eager to 
win the victory for its master. The discharge of innumer- 
able pistols accompanied the flying steeds. Then came, like- 
wise accompanied by the music of artillery, the target-shoot- 
ing, in -which the competitors had to hit the mark while fly- 
ing past it at full speed, or springing off their galloping horse 
and on again, like lightning. The last of the exhibition was 
a tilting-match, where there was no lack of bruises and 
scratches. In most of these exercises Arslan was the decid- 
ed victor. And in none of the contests was any one before 
him. His eye often sought that of Heloise, who, involun- 
tarily carried away with interest in the combat and admi- 
ration, could only with difficulty keep up the cold, grave 
expression by which she hoped to discourage him. 

Stunned by the noise and tumult of the combat, the 
ladies at length retired to a tent where refreshments were 
prepared for them. They were followed by Mansur Arslan, 
unarmed, but still glowing with the combat. Heloise, under 
the pretext of being very much fatigued and wishing to rest 
a moment, had seated herself on a divan which stood a little 
apart, and commissioned Mademoiselle Kalinoffska to request 
the other ladies, who sat in a circle near the entrance of the 
tent, to excuse her for a few minutes. The young hero en- 
tered with some embarrassment, but when he was followed 


230 


HELOISE. 


by some officers, who commenced conversing with the ladies, 
he quickly approached Heloise, and seated himself on the 
other end of the divan. 

u How bold !” she thought, but she felt that she must 
take advantage of the moment. She therefore looked at him 
inquiringly, upon which he immediately, but without arro- 
gance, moved nearer to her : “ I see you depressed and sad, 
countess, and could hate myself for feeling so happy not- 
withstanding.’ 7 

“ Perhaps, prince,” she replied, u I have better cause for 
sadness than you for joy.” 

“ If only it is not the same cause,” answered he. “ It is 
your father, countess, who has made me happy.” 

11 1 might reply to you : he it is that has made me sad. 
But why play with words — we have but a few moments. Let 
us employ them for the strictest sincerity, prince.” 

u What can be more sincere than my fervent, burning, 
unquenchable love ?” he said — and how much more lay in 
the inexpressible glance which he threw upon her ! 

u Prince,” she replied, painfully agitated by this glance, 
u my time is short. I cannot be delicate and womanly, as I 
would wish to be — because it is better to be sincere than deli- 
cate. I cannot appreciate the gift of your noble heart. I 
do not love you — I can never be your wife.” 

His face grew deathly pale and burning red by turns, 
while she was speaking. u Each of your words is a dagger 
to my heart. But I cannot hate you for them. I love you 
doubly for this sincerity.” 

“ But you cannot wish to marry a woman who does not 
love you.” 

“ My love will conquer your hatred.” 

u Bo not deceive yourself, prince. I do not hate you, I 
esteem you highly, but I will never give you my hand.” 

u I have your father’s word,” he replied, gloomily. 


HELOISE. 


231 


u My father may answer for what he does — if he can,” 
she added, with a deep sigh. u But however that may he, 
you are too generous to desire that he should force me.” 

“ You are too good a daughter to be disobedient to him.” 

u Well, then, Arslan, hear me ! You drive me to the 
utmost — my heart belongs to another !” 

Heloise was alarmed at the effect of her words. The 
sadness in his eyes was suddenly changed to rage. It seemed 
as if they would eject poison. In a low, suppressed voice, he 
at length asked : u Who is he ? He lives no more if my arm 
can reach him !” 

u Ah ! Arslan, he is far, far from here ! I shall never 
be his. But could you wish to possess me after such a con- 
fession ?” 

“ I have your father’s word,” he said once more, and his 
tone was more decided than before. 

Heloise could contain herself no longer : “ And with what 
are you going to buy this unhappy possession ? With that 
which heretofore was holiest to you, with the freedom of your 
people, and your own independence ? Prince, is not this 
price too high for you ? Does it agree with your honor ? 
Will not your nation call you a deserter, a traitor ?” 

These words, too, had so strong an effect, that Heloise 
would gladly have recalled them. Rage departed from his 
pale face, to give place to the returning expression of sadness, 
which suddenly mingled with so haughty a coldness, that 
Heloise felt as if she had wronged him. 

“ Countess,” he said, in a hollow voice, 11 you misjudge 
me ; I am no traitor. I have long felt that this war of ex- 
termination will never lead us to our aim. What can we, a 
little band, do against the gigantic superiority of Russia? The 
crown of the Kabarda is mine by right, my ancestor yielded 
it from a culpable weakness. My father rejected it from a 
mistaken idea that he could maintain his dignity only by 


232 


HELOISE. 


open warfare with Russia. But his and my ancestor had 
only submitted conditionally. After the example of many 
more powerful princes of Christendom, he did not consider 
it degrading to hold his domain in fee from one of the mighty 
of the earth. Such a conditional submission on my part, will 
keep my people free from that which your statesmen them- 
selves call the actual cancer of the Russian government, from 
an objectionable host of office-holders. The emperor has need 
of our arm. It is surely more honorable for us to fight the wars 
of a Christian emperor, than those of the Turkish crescent. 
Inwardly we will govern ourselves, and will suffer him and his 
followers to travel unmolested to Georgia. How, countess — 
but yesterday you were wishing that Christianity might have 
free access to our mountains, and to-day you would make me a 
traitor, because I take the only possible step to open the way 
for it ? But yesterday you believed yourself justified to de- 
spise us all, as barbarians, and to-day you hate me, because 
I am ready to lead my people to civilization ? Heloise, I 
thought you were above the caprices of woman !” 

Heloise was disconcerted. One glance from her expres- 
sive eyes, which were the mirror of her soul, told him that 
she appreciated his motives. But before she could answer, 
her father entered. He cast a penetrating glance towards 
her, and looked at Arslan searchingly. But a short conver- 
sation with the latter convinced him that his daughter had 
not betrayed him. Arslan’s gloomy mood he could easily 
explain by the repulsive coldness with which Heloise treated 
him. 

The latter approached the circle of ladies, who, in the in- 
terval, had been putting their heads together and whispering, 
and flew apart, when she joined them. Except Mademoi- 
selle Kalinoffska, none of them was sufficiently familiar with 
French to have understood more than one or two words of 
the conversation, which had been carried on in a low voice j 


HELOISE. 


233 


and the latter, to oblige Heloise, had taken pains to divert 
the general attention from her. Meanwhile evening had 
come, and Heloise was glad to leave the company. 

She arrived at home in deep emotion. Arslan appeared 
to her in a different light from before. What his heroic 
beauty, his burning devotion, and lastly, the whole splendid 
development of all his chivalresque virtues had not brought 
about, one moment, one passing glance into his soul had 
effected — she had learnt to esteem him. What should she 
do ? Ought she to suffer the youth, who desired so noble an 
object, to plunge blindly into ruin? How if she should make 
up her mind to give him her hand, and to tread with him his 
difficult path — to be his assistant in the noble mission of re- 
ligion and culture ? It would be a high calling, sufficient to 
give value to her poor, worthless life. 

But would her father ever give her to him ? To him whom 
he looked upon as a mere brigand-chief ? And was it possible 
for him to clothe him with the important power which he had 
enticingly promised to him ? Ah ! and she herself, could she, 
ought she to give him her hand, with the image of another in her 
heart, and the sure feeling that no one could ever there supplant 
this other? Would not that be moral adultery ? And should 
she not tremble at such a sin? What were her father’s plans? 
He had won the princes of the Cuban partly by considerable 
sums of money, and partly by dazzling promises. In the tent 
of Tugus, the prince of Machosh, a magnificent Russian ge- 
nera! s-uniform had been seen, and many rolls of silver-roubles 
had already been divided among the Works , as presents. 

In return for all this, nothing was demanded but the 
ceremony of signing names, and that a few regiments of in- 
fantry should be allowed to cross the Cuban, and a few 
more of cavalry to be enlisted there, by whose liberal wa- 
ges the subjects would grow rich. All this, and much more, 
of which Heloise had only found out the above as true, had 


234 


HELOISE. 


been whispered about in the camp, and had also reached her. 
There were doubtless some secret articles besides, aft which her 
father had hinted. The papers had been drawn up, and laid 
before the princes ; had been altered according to their objec- 
tions, and re-copied. All that was wanting were the signatures, 
which had been promised for the next morning. She must 
leave them to their fate. 

But Arslan? He had been won for a higher price, which . 
neither would nor could be paid him. He could be kept in 
suspense, but in the end he must discover that he had been 
deceived. His influence was considerable. He would have 
to be secured ; his liberty, his life, perhaps, would have to be 
taken, if the Russians would not gain in him a dangerous, im- 
placable enemy. She shuddered. 

It was her duty to warn him. Her resolve was taken ; 
she took up pen and paper. She wrote : 

“ Prince ! I feel that the glance which you have, to-day, at 
the close of our interview, let me cast into your noble soul, 
makes perfect sincerity towards you, doubly my duty. Beware ! 
Do nothing for the freedom of your people, that you cannot 
answer for as a Christian ; and for their peace, prince, do 
nothing, sign nothing but what you would also do and sign 
without the hope of your ancestor’s kingdom, and without 
the promise of my hand. After a long struggle I have come 
to the conviction that it is my duty to warn you. God guide 
your resolve, and his blessing be with you !” 

She dared not sign the paper. She sealed it. But how 
was she to send the letter to the camp? And yet it must be 
done this evening. Guasha suddenly entered her mind, she 
scarcely knew how. Her maids had all gone to bed. In one 
of the outhouses she still heard the coachman and servants 
talking, and singing to the Balalaika. Hiding the letter in 
her bosom, and carefully shading the light with her hand, she 
glided through the row of apartments — where, stretched on 


HELOISE. 


235 


carpets and mattresses, her maids were snoring — to the other 
end of the house. Here was a small chamber which had been 
assigned to Guasha. The poor girl lay on the bed, still 
dressed. She had hut just fallen asleep, for a tear still glis- 
tened on her cheek. 

“ Poor child,” thought Heloise, “it will he a consolation 
to you to rescue him.” She touched her lightly. Guasha 
started up. 

When she saw a white figure standing before her, but 
dimly illumined by the shaded light, she took it for a vision, 
and commenced muttering incoherent words. 

“ It is I, Guasha,” said Heloise, — ■“ Tell me, do you love 
me ?” 

Guasha, who had risen, sank down before her, and embra- 
ced her knees. “ Oh forgive me, countess, I surely love 
thee !” she said. But Heloise answered quickly, 

“ I have nothing to forgive. But if you wish to prove 
your love for me, you can do it now. Ho you fear to go to 
the camp alone?” 

“At this hour? What shall I do there among all those 
men?” 

“ You are to carry this letter to Arslan. Ho not look at 
me so wildly ! It is no love-letter. I have written to him, I 
have warned him. I have told him to remain faithful to his 
people. To-morrow morning it would be too late.” 

Guasha looked for a moment deep into her eyes. “ Give it 
to me then,” she said at length, her penetrating mind conjec- 
turing the main thing ; “ I fear not the Adiges. Give me 
something for thy father, so that his guards will let me pass.” 

They crept to one of the front rooms, where stood a 
basket with linen, which Heloise had had done up for her 
father by one of her maids. Besides this she wrapped a 
book in paper, which the count had asked her for some days 
ago, and wrote the direction in Russian. “ Only be sure/ 


236 


HELOISE. 


she said, “ to put the letter into Arslan’s hands, Guasha j I 
would be lost, if it were miscarried. And he would be lost, 
Guasha !” 

u I shall give up my life before the letter, depend upon 
it, countess,” replied Guasha, concealing the letter under her 
cap, and pulling her veil over her head. Heloise softly ac- 
companied her to the house-door, to lock it behind her. She 
looked out upon the dark, sultry night. The sky was full 
of black, lowring thunder-clouds, which were occasionally 
broken by a flash of lightning. 

11 You cannot go, Guasha !” cried Heloise, in alarm. 

“ Didst thou not say that he was lost if he did not re- 
ceive the letter, countess ?” 

“ I did hope, by that letter, to deter him from a false step, 
which he would repent bitterly his whole life ; but you can- 
not go in this weather, Guasha !” 

“ What care I for the weather, when his happiness is at 
stake ?” asked Guasha, stepping out. “ Besides, it may last 
a while yet before the storm comes down. In less than an 
hour I shall be in the camp.” 

She was already far off ; Heloise looked after her in 
anxious suspense. At that moment a broad flash blazed 
through the night, and showed her, at the end of the street, 
in the most vivid light, the tall, slender figure of Guasha, as 
she sped along, with the basket on her head. A terrible 
clap of thunder, rolled along after her. 

Heloise returned to her room in the greatest agitation. 
She opened the window, to see whether her messenger was 
still in sight. The part of the camp where the tents of the 
Circassians lay, was nearest to Jekaterinodar. Successive 
claps of thunder kept Heloise in continual fear about Guasha. 
Half an hour had hardly passed, when the black clouds broke, 
and sent forth an apparently inexhaustible flood. Heloise 
sat up the whole night, awaiting Guasha’s return. But the 


HELOISE. 


237 


morning broke, and she came not. “ She has probably 
stayed with one of the sutler-women, on account of the rain,” 
thought Heloise. “ The linen, which she would have to dry, 
was a good excuse.” At daybreak she at length lay down, 
quite exhausted, and, with the happy privilege of youth, she 
soon sank into a deep, long, refreshing sleep. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


SOMETHING UNEXPECTED. 

When our heroine awoke, quite late, she was struck with the 
noise in the street, and the unusually loud talking in the 
house. She had hut just risen, when Nanny put her head in 
at the door, and, when she saw the countess up, immediately 
entered the room. 

“ Well-a-day ! So you’ve waked up at last ! Hasn’t 
your honor rested well? Well, other people haven’t slept 
much, either ! J ust think, your honor, the Circassians have 
gone off in the night, one and all !” 

11 Gone ! How is that possible, Nanny?” asked Heloise, 
in amazement. 

u Possible or not, it’s so, your honor. The earth must 
have swallowed them up — or the thunder has rolled them 
away, for it was awfully loud last night. In short, they’re 
off, and no trace of them left.” 

“ How have you heard this, Nanny? — Hoes Guasha know 
about it ?” 

“ I haven’t laid my eyes on her this morning. The girl 
seems to be asleep yet. I’ve knocked at her door, but she 
must have been fast asleep, she didn’t answer me ; she never 
was so lazy before. But that comes from crying so much in 
the day-time.” 

u But is the news correct? They cannot have left secretly. 
The sentinels would have noticed it.” 

11 The night was so awful and dark. One of the senti- 
nels has been found dead on the ground ; one says the light- 


HELOISE. 


239 


ning struck him, and another says they killed him. And 
the other two guards are off and away, too ; they must have 
taken them along. You see, your honor, the horses were 
none of them in a stable ; they were grazing in the open air, 
a little away from the camp, on a beautiful green pasture. 
That’s the fashion of these wild people through the summer. 
So they must have crept there one by one in the dark night, 
and mounted their horses, and then gone off. It was only at 
a Stanitza* a mile east from here, that they first gave the 
alarm. From our watchtower they couldn’t see any thing 
for the darkness, nor hear either, for the dreadful rattling 
that the deluge of rain made.” 

“ And what can have induced them — ?” asked Heloise. 
at the same time turning to take something from the table, 
for if Nanny had seen her face at this question, her shrewd 
glance would soon have detected that her mistress knew more 
of the matter than she. 

« The Lord only knows !” replied Nanny. u And his 
Excellency. They must have smelt a rat. But all the fine 
money that his Excellency has given them beforehand, they’ve 
taken along with them.” 

“ And how did you hear all this ?” 

« The whole camp’s full of it, and the town too. All’s in 
confusion, for they say that the people opposite, right across 
the river, in Psadug, will break out now, and they’ve kept 
pretty quiet so far. Well, the Lord’s will be done ! I should 
be sorry for my little house, if they should come across us 
here in Jekaterinodar. I’ve put all my hardly-earned money 
into it. But where can G-uasha be ?” 

No trace of the girl could be found. All inquiries were 
fruitless. It was at length found out that, the night pre- 
vious, before the rain commenced, she had been stopped by 


* Station. 


240 


HELOISE. 


one of the patrols, and that, on her assertion that she had to 
bring the general the linen, which he would want the next 
morning, so late, because she had forgotten to do the errand 
that the countess had given her, during the day — she had 
be<Jn suffered to pass without further hindrance. The basket, 
saturated with the rain, was found in the camp, at a consi- 
derable distance from the tents of the Circassians ; the book, 
to Heloise’s great relief, was not with it, for this, as well as 
the direction in her hand, would have led to the track of her 
connection with the affair, of which now no one had the 
least suspicion — except perhaps her father. That Guasha 
had fled with the Circassians, did not admit of a doubt ; but 
as no one could imagine that her late visit had been the 
cause of this flight, the general opinion commenced to take it 
for the result of a previously-concerted plan. The faithless- 
ness of this nation was loudly commented upon, as also the in- 
gratitude with which they had repaid the hospitality of the 
Russian commander, and had extracted presents from him 
with avaricious cunning. Towards evening, at length, a Cir- 
cassian Pshilt , or serf, was discovered, who had purposely re- 
mained behind, in order to take service in the Russian army, 
and had kept himself concealed until then. He had come to 
the camp as a servant to one of the nobles of Temigui, and 
had already been in Russia, in the language of which he 
could but just manage to make himself understood. 

He was immediately taken before the general, who, by a 
great many questions, got out of the man that Arslan had 
entered the tent inhabited by the princes of Psadug and 
Temigui, quite late, and in the midst of thunder and light- 
ning, just as he was waiting on the chiefs and some nobles at 
supper. The young man himself had been so agitated that the 
raging element seemed personified in him, and had requested 
them to assemble the nobles without delay. When this had 
been done, he made a fiery speech to them, in which he ex- 




HELOISE. 


241 


plained that the count was deceiving them, that there could 
be no peace with traitors, that they were to be taken prison- 
ers and sent to St. Petersburg, and that he advised instant 
flight, as the storm favored it. The old man of Temigui had 
asked how he knew all this so suddenly ; but Prince Arslan 
Mansur had inquired how he knew whether he had not long 
been aware of it. Perhaps he had only dissembled, and 
feigned confidence, so as to sift the count. Some of the 
princes and nobles had at first hesitated, but by degrees he 
alone had brought them all round (with the exception of 
Tugus Tshuruk Oglu, who left with reluctance), by his elo- 
quence, and by repeatedly directing their attention to the 
thunder, and asking them whether they would not listen to 
the voice of the great God, who was speaking to them so 
plainly. While the camp lay hidden in the darkness of night, 
and was almost carried away by the flood of rain, they had 
crept, a few only at a time, to their horses, and had strangled 
the sentinels, stealing suddenly behind them, so as to prevent 
any noise. He himself— -was the conclusion of the serf’s 
narration — had concealed himself until he knew that they 
were already far away. 

Not only the Russian camp was in the highest degree 
excited by this strange occurrence. On the southern shore 
of the Cuban its consequences were plainly seen. At the 
mouth of the river Shepis, where it empties into the Cuban 
directly opposite Jekaterinodar, lies the village in which Psu- 
gui. the prince of Psadug, resided. Its inhabitants were 
observed to be making preparations and arming themselves. 
Fires were blazing on the mountains, shots called up the echo 
of the valleys. It could be seen that something extraordi- 
nary was going on on the opposite shore, without it being 
plainly distinguishable what it was. 

Spies brought the news of the general arming of Abazak 
and the Cuban countries, of the determination* of the princes 

11 


242 


HELOISE. 


to unite with the Shapzuks and Notachaizes, and to be free 
or die. The courage of the western highlanders rose rapidly 
with such aid. They too, were preparing for more important 
expeditions, while the nocturnal attacks on the military posts, 
and the ransacking of villages, continued. 

Several days passed. Heloise had hardly seen her father. 
He was cold and gloomy. He did not visit her any more, 
and when she rode to the camp unasked, he had but little 
time for her. Nevertheless, he was not deficient in his usual 
politeness, and she had occasion to observe, that, while his 
anger frequently broke out so violently that the whole army 
trembled before him, he controlled himself alone before her. 
But she could not endure this unhappy state of things. She 
had resolved to submit to his anger, and be perfectly sincere 
towards him. But he intentionally avoided being alone with 
her, and when she once requested a short interview, as she 
had something to tell him, he answered, with severity : “ I do 
not wish to hear any thing.” 

At this period the order for the breaking up of the camp 
was suddenly given. “What will become of me now?” 
thought Heloise. Dabanoff, whom she saw in passing, told 
her that her father thought of sending her back to St. Peters- 
burg. This was cruel ! Was she, far away from him, to 
lose his love entirely, to let him become completely estranged 
from her ? But in the course of the morning the count gal- 
loped up to her door. He dismounted and came up stairs 
with hasty steps. “Heloise,” he said, “a courier has just 
brought me the intelligence that the governor-general of New- 
Bussia is on the coast. He will land at Ghelendshik to-mor- 
jrow. Several ladies and gentlemen are in his suite, who 
have come to see the vanquished Circassians,” he added, con- 
temptuously, “ for it is quite easy to make conquests on paper, 
you must know. Our unhappy policy keeps them in such 
ignorance, that, with foolish blindness, they are already begin* 


HELOISE. 


243 


ning to come to select picturesque situations for their villas 
on the shores of the Black Sea. But to you this visit offers 
a suitable opportunity to return to the civilized world, where 
you belong. You will remain under the protection of the 
noble governor-general until you hear from me again.” 

Heloise was most painfully agitated. 11 Oh father !” she 
cried, “ do not send me from you !” 

“ What would you have ?” he replied, sternly, u you can- 
not remain here. This part of the country will soon be the 
scene of war. You have obtained now what you wished. 
This is the consequence of your romantic folly. Not a word ! 
I know all ! Hold yourself in readiness. I cannot give you 
more than an hour. Pack up such things as you cannot spare, 
nothing more ; the cities of the Crimea or Odessa will fur- 
nish you anew. A Pulk* of tried Cossacks will lead you 
safely over the mountains, and keep off waylayers. Fare- 
well, be ready !” 

Heloise was about to throw herself on his breast, but he 
tore himself forcibly away. “ In an hour,” he said, “ I shall 
be with you again.” 

The poor girl was as if stunned, but she was obliged to 
obey her father’s orders. She quickly made the necessary 
arrangements, and took leave of the weeping Nanny, who 
could not accompany her, as she was just expecting the return 
of her husband from his journey. One of her Russian maids 
was to go with her. In an hour a carriage with four horses 
stopped before her door, and soon after, the general made his 
appearance. u Quick, Heloise ; you have not a moment to 
lose.” 

“ I am ready, father ; but let me not part from you with- 
out your forgiveness.” 

She was almost overcome by emotion, yet she controlled 


* Company. 


244 


HELOISE. 


herself ; she knew how her father hated every outbreak of 
feeling. But two large tears started to her eyes, when he 
silently embraced her. 

It seemed as if he too gave way, to-day, for a moment, to a 
deeper emotion. He pressed her close to him. “ I forgive you,” 
he said at length, and his voice trembled. “ You could not 
do otherwise without burdening your conscience. Be always 
so pure — be always so honest ! God bless you !” 

He conquered his emotion and gave her his arm. Oh, 
how gladly would she have embraced him once more ! But 
while he gave her a letter to the governor-general, he said : 
“ When we will meet again, God only knows ! As soon as 
I can make a certain plan for your future, you shall hear 
from me.” 

“ Oh, father, write to me before that — if only a few lines, 
in which you assure your Heloise that you still love her.” 

“ Of what use are idle words ? Are you not the flower 
of my thorny life ? Who knows how soon fate, or the humors 
of my sovereign, will bring the moment when I can enjoy it 
without prejudicing my honor ?” 

With these words he lifted her into the carriage, and 
mounted the horse which a groom was holding in readiness. 
Accompanied by him and several officers, Heloise left the 
town of J ekaterinodar, where every body ran to the windows 
to witness her departure. Not far from the last houses, a 
large body of Cossacks were awaiting her, headed by the 
Ataman and Yessaul* “ Both,” said the count to Heloise, 
“ I know to be faithful and brave. They will bring you safely 
to Ghelendshik, at the risk of their lives. Ataman ,” he ad- 
dressed the bearded captain — a brave, stalwart figure, who, 
carelessly thrown upon a little uncombed horse, looked boldly 


* Captain and lieutenant. 


HELOISE. 


245 


and unconcernedly out upon the world— “ I confide to you 
the dearest treasure that I possess on earth.” 

“ Fear nothing, general,” replied he, coolly, adjusting a 
girth : “ they will not cut off both my arms at once ; and as 
long as Peter Pulawski can hold' his sword in his left hand, 
the robbers shall not take a bandbox from thy daughter.” 

The count turned, with a similar injunction, to the lieu- 
tenant — a somewhat younger man, bearded like the other, but 
of gigantic form and powerful figure — •“ Yessaul , I know that 
I can depend upon your bravery ; but be also cautious. Have 
your eyes everywhere. You know these bandits come upon 
one like a thief in the night.” 

“ General, trust to me ; only over my corpse shall a hair 
of thy child’s head be touched.” 

Made less calm, by such assurances, than anxious by these 
necessary measures of precaution, our young heroine rolled 
along, surrounded on all sides by the trusty Cossacks. The 
train moved on rapidly, in a western direction, along the 
northern shore of the Cuban, for about three miles. When 
they passed the camp, Heloise observed a general stirring in 
it. The scene was greatly changed ; more than half the tents 
had already been taken down ; the baggage-wagons stood in 
readiness, and all was business and excitement. A raft, which 
had been constructed to carry provision-carts over to the 
forts, and was guarded day and night by a strong detachment 
of soldiers, conveyed her carriage over the Cuban ; the little 
horses of the Cossacks, which could swim almost as well as 
they could run, carried the latter over. 

The actual road to the Aboun valley, through which He- 
loise was to travel to Grhelendshik, a fortress on the Black 
Sea, runs from the Olga Stanitza along the northern Cuban 
shore. But the Ataman , by the count’s orders, shortened 
the journey considerably, by crossing the Cuban sooner, tra- 
versing the broad valley in a south-western direction, and 


246 


HELOISE. 


then entering, by a side-pass, not far from the Russian for- 
tress Aboun, upon the valley of that name. True, on this road 
many a torrent had to be crossed, the rocky bed of many a 
rushing stream to be passed over, where the carriage could 
only be held upright by the supporting pikes of the Cossacks. 
Neither was the journey through the gently-rising plain en- 
tirely free from danger, for it was inhabited by Shapzuks, 
and the travellers could see from the road their little villages, 
bordered with gardens. Rut it was important to gain time, 
so that the squadron of the governor-general might not have 
left Grhelendshik before Heloise reached the fort. 

Our heroine had been wonderfully strengthened by her 
father’s parting words. He forgave her — he felt that she had 
done right. What he had said last had sounded mysterious, 
but there gleamed from it a ray of hope of soon meeting him 
again. Thus she had at least gained sufficient calmness not 
to be unsusceptible to the enchanting beauty of the country 
around her. Refreshed by the violent rain, the broad, lux- 
urious valley lay before her in emerald brightness. Now the 
road ascended; first undulating, and then without falling 
again, it passed over a wooded ridge of hills, so as to lead 
through a gap into the elevated valley of the Aboun. On the 
opposite, western side of the latter stream — which was of 
a brilliant blue, and wider than any which they had crossed — 
on a hill thickly overgrown with woods, and of indifferent 
height, lay the fortress of Aboun. Heloise, who had brought 
very different ideas of a fort from her country, observed, with 
surprise, a square of wooden barracks, inclosed by several 
high ramparts of earth, and moats, which only received a mar- 
tial aspect from the thousands of armed warriors that were 
standing on the walls to see the strangers pass, and the quarter 
of a hundred of cannon. A painful emotion filled Heloise’s 
heart when she heard that more than half the garrison con- 
sisted of Poles who had been pressed into service. 


HELOISE. 


247 


Twilight had already set in, and by far the most danger- 
ous part of the journey still lay before them. The train 
halted for a few minutes, to give the horses the necessary 
rest and refreshment. Heloise here had to exchange her 
easy carriage for a little open Circassian wagon, called an 
Arba , the only kind of vehicle which could be used on the 
mountain road that led up the valley, and over which their 
journey was now to take them. For the beautiful Aboun- 
valley, which, on this side of the fort bearing its name, spreads 
out so as almost to form a basin, beyond it begins already to 
contract, until, at length, on a steep rocky ledge, it disappears 
in the narrow chasm from which a torrent leaps forth in fury. 
This stream, which, dividing already at its source into several 
branches, breaks its way into as many green, thickly-wooded 
defiles, here suddenly precipitates itself noisily from a steep 
height, to flow quietly afterwards, as if exhausted, the straight, 
shortest way to the main stream ; there leaps in graceful wind- 
ings over stones and gigantic old roots of trees, to hasten on 
at last to the same end by a circuitous route, and finally, 
united, a little above Fort Aboun, to a pure, clear stream, to 
glide through smiling meadows and fields towards the Cuban. 

* It was along the main stream of this river, that their 
route led, up the bed of the valley, to the other fort by which 
the Russians had endeavored to secure for themselves the road 
through this valley to the coast. The walls of the latter 
grew higher and steeper, rarely threatening and bare, but 
overgrown in most places with oaks and beeches like those 
of Heloise’s fatherland, and a quantity of other species 
of trees, such as she had never before seen. Nature here has 
less of wildness, than of a stern, sacred solemnity. But the 
many desolate homesteads, and ruined enclosures, which lay 
scattered over the slopes of the hills, in spots where the 
woods had been cleared — for the valley had been deserted 
by its inhabitants, since the Russians had taken up their 


248 


HELOISE. 


abode there — gave the glorious scenes of nature, neverthe- 
less, an appearance of waste and desolation. 

It had grown entirely dark, when the party arrived at 
Nicolajeffsky, the second fort, which lies a little more than 
four miles beyond Aboun. Here the leader of the escort 
resolved to await the break of day, protected by the cannon 
of the fortress. The Cossacks encamped, without laying off 
their arms, close to their horses. Heloise was induced, with 
her maid, to ascend the hill, so as to take a bed in the fort. 
The commandant received his general’s daughter with un- 
bounded respect. But Heloise was shocked at the pale, un- 
healthy appearance of the soldiers whom she saw in passing. 
“ Poor fellows,” said the Yessaul, compassionately, when she 
remarked this to him the next morning ; u they are like pri- 
soners up there. The valley is narrow, and throws out bad 
vapors. The salt meat that they get is not always in the 
best condition, and the bread often mouldy. And then lying 
still so from morning till night — no one could keep well with 
that. And if they do go out, they are received with balls, 
and treated to them until they are in again. Yesterday, 
the sentinels that were to guard the cattle grazing on the 
slope of the hills, were carried off, together with the flocks. 
I should not like to be in the skin of one of the garrison !” 

When Heloise, at sunrise, was summoned to depart, she 
saw, from the preparations which had been made, the altered 
character of the road before her. Instead of horses, oxen 
were to draw her wagon ; for a tremendous height had to be 
climbed, in order to reach the west side of the ridge, even 
through the most accessible pass. Two small cannons had 
also been added to her escort, one of which was drawn on in 
advance, and the other in the rear of the train. A few hours 
from Nicolajeffsky, the party turned into one of the side- 
valleys, which came down upon their way from the South- 
West. The peaks of the rocky walls rose up more and more 


HELOISE. 


249 


wildly ; roots of trees, boldly and strangely intertwined, ran 
along their path, rendering it more and more difficult — while 
immense creepers, reaching to the riders’ saddles, often 
threatened to obstruct it entirely. Gigantic trees, oyer- 
thrown by the recent storm, had to be cleared away by the 
Cossacks with great expense of time and strength, before it 
was possible for Heloise’s wagon to proceed. The sharp 
morning breeze blew over the country with icy coldness, and 
the forest night hung over the valley so densely and darkly, 
that the red, cold rays of the rising sun could penetrate it only 
in single brilliant gleams. The travellers were decoyed into 
the strangest, most unexpected turns, by the ascending defile. 
Now a high, black wall rose up before them, and Heloise had 
just observed that the foremost riders disappeared to the 
left, where she had least anticipated a road. 

At this moment, the train came to a full stop, and a 
strange, mysterious agitation, which arose all around, gave 
Heloise a quick suspicion of the terrible cause. A loudly 
reverberating discharge of pistols, and the dreadful cry : 
u Circassians, Circassians !” which suddenly sounded through 
the ranks, told her all. In a single moment hundreds of 
swords were bared, hundreds of muskets raised to take aim. 
From before, from behind, from never-suspected side-defiles, 
they emerged — all pushing towards the one point, Heloise’s 
wagon, which was instantly shielded by a tenfold wall of 
Cossacks, who kept off the assailants with sharp swords and 
pointed spears. At both ends of the train, too, a desperate 
conflict raged. On the first, unexpected attack, the Circas- 
sians had possessed themselves of the foremost cannon ; the 
artillery-men of the other were thrown down, trampled 
upon. But no fire could be used, without destroying friend 
and foe at once, against the thick coil of combatants which . 
moved around Heloise’s carriage in mortal conflict. Here 
and there one of the athletic highlanders threw himself, 
11 * 


250 


HELOISE. 


striking out with his sharp sword in his right and the mur- 
derous dagger in his left, into the densest crowd, not caring 
for certain death, if he could only drag ten others with him 
to destruction. But again and again, the Atamari!s cry 
drew together new faithful ones to fill the gap. Suddenly a 
ball whistled past Heloise, into the back of the brave cap- 
tain, and threw him from his horse. For a moment there 
was a broad chasm in her wall of defence, and through it she 
saw the flash of a terrible sword — yes, it seemed to her as if 
she also saw a pair of still more terrible eyes glaring fiercely 
through it. Nearer and nearer the mass pressed round her 
— closer and closer. Suddenly — and an unspeakable terror 
seized her — she saw a Circassian chief, high on horseback, 
break through the faithful wall which had shielded her until 
now : she recognized Arslan ! A fearful cry of horror broke 
from the unhappy girl. But the gigantic form of the Yessaul 
threw itself in the way, and a murderous struggle commenced 
between the two, while, instead of the living wall of brave 
combatants, the wagon of the half-unconscious Heloise was 
soon surrounded by a bank of corpses. Such Cossacks as 
were left, sought their safety in flight. 

The Yessaul alone struggled on fiercely. Suddenly the 
cry was heard from before them : “ Russians, Russians ! help 
is near !” and a fresh, fierce fire announced the deliverers. 
But at this sound, the Circassian was seized with a wild rage ; 
with practised skill he seized his hidden dagger, and plunged 
it desperately into the heart of his opponent, who seized him 
with convulsive grasp. The Yessaul staggered, and was 
drawing his furious assailant with him by his death-gripe, 
but his arms sank, and in his fall, true to his word, he shel- 
tered his general’s child with his broad, gigantic body. But a 
pair of powerful arms dashed him aside, and tore her from 
her seat. Arslan’s eye glared at her with horror-awakening 
passion. u Help ! help !” she cried, for already she heard, 


HELOISE. 


251 


she saw, the deliverers approaching — already the combat was 
recommencing. But in an instant he raised her up and lifted 
her upon his snorting steed. A companion was hastily throw- 
ing a shawl around her waist, to attach her to the rider, hut 
despair gave her strength for a moment. She resisted vio- 
lently, tearing every thing off, so that Arslan, with a gripe 
which betrayed the warrior rather than the lover, and a glance 
of loving rage, took hold of and held her until the shawl 
was secured. This done — and all was the work of a moment 
— he pressed his spurs into his horse’s flanks, and galloped 
furiously away with his prize into a side-valley. 

But behind them resounded horses’ hoofs, and loudly and 
fiercely a voice was heard calling after them, whose tones pen- 
etrated to the inmost soul of the half-fainting girl. Arslan 
would not hear — the prize was his. He flew along like a 
whirlwind, relying upon the unsurpassed swiftness of his 
steed. But a shot was heard — and another. The horse stag- 
gered. With desperate rage it was about to take a fresh 
start for a faster flight, but it broke down ; its slender legs 
were shattered. The pursuer, with skilful aim, had sacrificed 
it for its master. Arslan had sprung from it before it fell, 
and, dividing the shawl with his sharp dagger, he lifted down 
the unconscious girl. He swung his burden over his shoulder, 
and* was about to conceal himself with her in the depth of 
the forest. But the pursuer was now on the spot, and behind 
him many other horsemen. All threw themselves upon the 
one. There, in despair, he dropped his prize — his sword flew 
from its scabbard, and many an opponent recoiled from the 
furious blows which he dealt out. One only — it was he who 
had killed Arslan’s steed — grasped the insensible girl and bore 
her from the crowd, while his companions, with merciless 
blows, ten against one, cut down the Lion of Circassia. 

By the road-side, stretched on the soft greensward, lay 
Heloise, surrounded by her deliverers, her friends. She lay 


252 


HELOISE. 


motionless, lifeless. The consciousness of bloody danger float- 
ed around her soul, vaguely and darkly. One knelt by her 
side, one bent over her with anxious gaze, with half-despair- 
ing heart. u Heloise, my Heloise I” whispered a gentle, lov- 
ing voice. At that moment she opened her eyes — she looked 
into two other eyes — they were the faithful, loving ones of 
Felix. Hers closed anew, and a long, deathlike unconscious- 
ness followed. 


# 


CHAPTER XX. 

CONCLUSION. 

Several days had elapsed. At Fort Ghelendsliik, in the 
commandant’s house, the curtains were closely drawn before 
the windows of one of the best apartments, and silence was 
strictly enjoined on the domestics at work in the passages. 
On a camp-bed lay, with cheeks bloodless and white as snow, 
hut enjoying, for the first time after a raging fever, a refresh- 
ing sleep, the form of a lovely woman. 

Seated in a corner of the room, with their hacks to the 
hed, two men were carrying on, in a low voice, an earnest 
Conversation: “ You know all now, uncle,” said the younger of 
the two, softly. “ N othing hut a fatal fascination, and Heloise’s 
peculiar maidenly pride, have placed us in this cruel situation. 
Oh ! if she had but spoken sooner — it would have been my 
greatest happiness — it would have been my ambition, to lead 
her to you as my wife, and, with her, to ask your blessing !” 

“ I can well believe it, Felix,” replied the general, for he 
it was whom the other was addressing. “ Such a pearl would 
be rejected by no one, who had a suspicion of the possibility 
of possessing it. But the mischief is done, and all that we 
can do is to make up for it as well as we can. Heloise’s dis- 
ease is broken, the danger is past. My duty calls me hence ; 
I could hardly spare even these two days from service. She 
is yours, my dear fellow — take my paternal blessing with her. 
In a few days her youth and constitution will have conquered 
the disease so far, that you can take her to Kaffa without 
danger. A barque will convey you there, which I will send 
here. In the Crimea you will find German colonies and Pro- 
testant clergymen. Be united to Heloise without delay, and 


254 


HELOISE. 


return to Germany as soon as you can possibly do so. Here 
are the papers that you need, to be married and to travel 
in this country. Here are checks. I am acquainted with the 
authorities of New Russia. It was only by an unhappy chance 
that the governor-general had left Ghelendshik an hour before 
the belated messenger, whom the poor Ataman had sent from 
Aboun, arrived. They will do all to assist you, and to forward 
you to the Danube, where you can return to Germany with 
the Austrian steamer. “ Farewell, my son,” he added, rising 
and embracing him, “ make my Heloise happy ! If you will 
follow the advice of an experienced man, live on your es- 
tates — retire from court — do not give room to ambition — 
avoid the service of princes ; that of one’s country is less to 
be found there than here, where there is at least but one will, 
while there the immense chasm between prince and people 
grows wider and wider. As a free German nobleman and 
rich proprietor, you can still be a happy man there.” 

“ I shall be so as Heloise’s husband, father ! But you, uncle?” 

u It is my firm belief,” answered the count, forcing a smile, 
u that my existence was somewhat spoilt from the beginning. 
If I could commence again, I would do better. But now that 
I am once in course, I must strive with my utmost powers to 
reach the goal.” 

He approached his daughter’s bed, and regarded the pale, 
heavenly figure with the deepest emotion. The image of An- 
tonia, his once so fervently beloved wife, which had long since 
receded from his memory, mingled strangely with that of 
Heloise. He bent over the sleeping girl, to kiss her — and a 
scalding tear fell upon her cheek. 

She awoke. She looked at him with bright eyes, full oS 
astonishment. “ Is it you, father?” she asked, endeavoring to 
raise herself up. He supported her with his strong arm. 
“ Have I been dreaming, father ? Have I been sick ? Ah ! 
I must be so still,” she added, and sank back exhausted. 


HELOISE. 


255 


“ You are recovering, I hope. Try to recollect. But cast 
only one glance into the past, and then turn your eye to the 
future. You were attacked by bandits— you were rescued. And 
do you know who was your deliverer?” 

“ Father, can it be that it was not a dream? My Felix, 
my brother is here ?” 

Felix was kneeling by the bed : “ Your husband, my He- 
loise! Your father will also be my father. Pardon your 
erring Felix !” 

The count would not allow any explanations, but here 
Felix had known Heloise’s heart better than he, for a faint 
color passed over her face, when she called him brother. 

The exhausted girl soon fell asleep again, and the count, 
to avoid all agitation, availed himself of this time to part from 
his daughter, after pressing a farewell kiss upon her forehead. 
He returned over the mountains to the head of the army, to 
where, in the western basin of the valley, the flame of war was 
raging more destructively than ever. For the minds of the 
Abazaks, first by Arslan’s endeavors, and then by the death 
of the young hero, had become most violently incensed against 
the Russian government; and the name of him, who, in their 
eyes, represented it, was used by them, after that unfortunate 
visit to the camp on the Cuban, as an emblem, not only of 
oppression, but also of treachery and diabolical intrigue.* 

A faithful attendant, Felix sat for many a day and night by 
the bedside of his beloved sister-bride, until she had at length 
regained strength enough to proceed to Kaffa, in the barque 
which the count sent in due time. Here, in the former capital 
of the old Tartar empire, now the flourishing seat of commerce, 
civilization afforded ample means of advancing Heloise’s reco- 

* The reader is requested not to take the unnecessary trouble of 
seeking for real names for the above-mentioned persons, as any histo- 
rical foundation which this tale may have, has, intentionally, been 
mingled with fiction to avoid the least approach to personality. 


256 


HELOISE. 


very. In the church of the lovely village of Zurichthal,* a 
few hours from Kalfa, under the admiring gaze of the surround- 
ing crowd of Swiss and German countrymen, a venerable cler- 
gyman laid Heloise’s trembling hand in that of the happy Felix. 

Many days passed, ere both realized that the mysterious 
dispensation, which had brought them together so unexpect- 
edly, was more than a blissful dream. The benevolent, quiet, 
softening hand of time alone, which gave them the delicious 
certainty of possession, calmed the excitement of Heloise’s 
nerves, which, on that day of horror, had been completely shat- 
tered — and brought Felix to the blissful, grateful conscious- 
ness, that kind Providence had made him the happiest of men. 

He often wished to explain to Heloise how every thing 
happened, but she would say : u I pray you, be silent, I will 
hear nothing yet. I have you, and I am yours, that is 
enough.” In the cabin of the steamboat, only, when they 
were travelling up the Danube, and the hope of soon breath- 
ing their native air, called up native scenes before their souls’ 
eye — when they were quietly sitting side by side, and hand 
in hand, as in the years of their childhood, and, among the bus- 
tle and crowd of strange faces around them, they yet felt so 
alone, and all in all to each other — then only Heloise said : 

“ Now I believe I can hear all, my Felix, now tell your story.” 

And Felix commenced : 

“ Heloise, no tongue can tell what I felt, when I returned, 
and you were gone. . My inmost heart had long grown clear 
to me. I had learnt to know Emma. I had long ago ceased 
to love her. Pride, honor, want of courage still bound me 
to her. What shall I say ? My heart was lacerated ! Oh, 
Heloise, why did you not speak ? I felt ashamed when I 
thought of you — I knew that you despised Emma — that you, 
the pure, the heavenly, could not but despise her. When I 
heard of your departure, I thought you had gone because it 

* A Swiss colony. 




HELOISE. 257 

pained you too deeply to see your best friend, the friend 
whose guardian-angel you have been since his earliest child- 
hood, chained to a worthless object. But just then they 
gave me your letter. I was annihilated. Light came into 
my heart. Your image, your name alone, had possession of 
it. And should the wish of my departed mother, the last 
command of her dying lips, which, like every injunction 
which she ever gave me, showed me the road, the only road 
to happiness, remain unfulfilled? Long, terrible years of 
misery lay before me. But my honor, my integrity, bound 
me indissolubly to Emma. You know that the wedding-day 
was fixed. The guests were invited. 

“ The state of my mind probably made me any thing but 
amiable. Emma often wept and reproached me with not 
loving her any more. Ought I not at that time to have 
frankly told her all, Heloise ? I did once actually make the 
attempt, but she broke out into such a passion of grief and 
anger, that I endeavored to calm her by assurances of my 
constancy. Of my love I could no longer assure her, for I 
knew that her suspicion was just. Oh, Heloise, your pure soul 
cannot conceive the state of mine at that time, and for months 
before. A vague sense of Emma’s worthlessness had already 
come over me in the earlier part of our acquaintance ; since 
Angern’s arrival, it grew more distinct, but at the same time 
obstinacy, that same stubborn obstinacy which has so often 
tortured you as a child, which awakened many an anxious 
feeling in the heart of my beloved mother, the desire to hold fast 
what I had once grasped — grew stronger and stronger within 
me. There were times, when I did not know whether it was ha- 
tred or love which I felt for Emma. I even remember one 
moment, when' she was clasped to my heart, in which 1 felt as 
if I must hate her. You shudder ! Forgive me. Heloise ! 

u After that scene, however, I understood myself per- 
fectly. I utterly despised her ; I saw her but seldom, and 


258 


HELOISE. 


when I saw her, my thoughts were far away. This may have 
been the reason that I entirely overlooked the infamous turn 
which Emma’s intercourse with the Spanish adventurer who 
instructed her in his language and in singing, had taken : a 
turn, which, as I afterwards learnt, was known to half the 
town before I discovered the secret which saved me. 

“ One evening — it was two days before the one appointed 
for our marriage — the sense of my misery grew too powerful 
within me. 1 I will go to her,’ I thought ; ‘ I will ask her if 
she wishes my hand without my heart. So much I owe even 
to her. There shall at least be truth between us, if there 
is no love.’ It was one of those evenings, in which, in our 
northern climate, Winter, even long after he has bid adieu, 
revenges himself once more on the usurper, Spring. Rain 
and hail fell violently from the sky. I therefore wrapped 
myself up closely in my large cloak, and placed, instead of 
my hat, a travelling-cap on my head. When I was still some 
distance from Emma’s house, I remarked that a servant 
stood before the door, with her apron over her head, and, in 
various ways, manifested great impatience. Before I had 
even reached her, she cried, pertly : ‘Well, this is fine ! I 
always thought lovers were mighty fiery in your country. 
But patience must be their virtue more than mine ! To 
leave a good Christian waiting here a whole hour ! There’ — 
giving me a paper — and with the words : ‘ what a weather !’ 
she slipped back into the house. 

“ I looked at the paper. By the light of a lantern I saw 
that it was a letter, without direction, and unsealed. I opened 
it — I saw Spanish words and recognized Emma’s handwrit- 
ing. A suspicion flashed across my mind. She wrote : 

‘ My Eginhard ! # — It is decided — love has conquered 

thou hast conquered. But let us give up the cars, they can 

* In allusion to the romantic history of Emma, the daughter of 
Charlemagne, and her lover Eginhard, his secretary. 


HELOISE. 


259 


only carry us a short distance, and I shudder at the exces- 
sively vulgar image which they present, in forcing flying and 
pursued lovers into the company of all the tradesmen and 
business people who are travelling now, only for the arrange- 
ment of their miserable affairs. Steeds, my knight, steeds 
must lend us their wings, and dark night her veil. Be on 
the spot punctually at seven. I shall send over a trunk and 
some boxes early in the afternoon, apparently to have Fer- 
now arrange and alter the articles which they contain, as I 
have often done before. So that this cannot raise any sus- 
picion. Order the carriage to the back-alley. Ah ! my 
Eginhard ! My heart trembles, the heart which beats for you, 
the heart of your Emma.’ 

“ Heloise, this letter set me free, and yet I was seized with 
an inward rage. I went home, and resolved not to be too 
hasty. Early the next morning I called on Emma. Her 
manner was as usual, but she said she had a great deal to do, 
and begged me to return in the afternoon. The idea crossed 
my mind that the maid had perhaps accidentally taken one 
of her mistress’s Spanish exercises instead of one of her own 
love-letters. But I knew Mrs. Fernow, as also the back-alley. 
The former was the name of the milliner, in whose upper 
back-room, which could be approached by a flight of stairs 
from a side-alley, Emma had formerly often met me, and 
whom I had amply paid for that privilege. Could Emma be 
so shameless ? It was impossible ! 

“ In the afternoon I watched Fernow’s house. I saw the 
trunk and the boxes carried over. At seven o’clock I stole 
up the back-stairs into the well-known room, for the key was 
still in my possession ; there stood the trunk, the boxes. At 
this moment I heard cautious steps in the passage which 
joined the room in which I was, to that of Mrs. Fernow. I 
quickly let down the calico window-curtain and stepped behind 


260 


HELOISE. 


it. Emma, in a travelling-dress, and Eernow, entered tlie 
apartment. 4 He is not yet here,’ said Emma. 4 1 wish he 
would not come,’ replied Fernow, 4 you are running to ruin, 
Miss.’ Before Emma could answer, I stepped forward. 
Emma uttered a scream, 4 Treachery !’ she cried, rushing 
passionately at Mrs. Fernow. You will willingly spare me 
the description of the scene which followed. Emma, for 
whom, to speak frankly, I at this moment felt more contempt 
than hatred, endeavored, by entreaties, to obtain from me the 
promise of concealing from her grandparents how far she had 
gone in her disgraceful error, and of taking her love for Col- 
lado as a pretext for the rupture. But I informed her that 
my duty towards her grandparents demanded that I should 
request them to watch her more closely, and prevent her from 
carrying on a third love-affair on that spot. I left her sob- 
bing hysterically, and wrote to the colonel the same evening. 
I acquainted him in a few words with the particulars of the 
case, and pronounced my engagement with his granddaughter 
broken. The business part of the affair was easily arranged, 
as the marriage-contract was to be signed only on the morn- 
ing of the “wedding. Pretended illness of the bride had to 
serve as pretext for countermanding the invitations sent out. 

44 Oh Heloise, I was now free from my galling chains, but 
I was not the least happier : for could I — might I still lay 
the slightest claim to possessing you, you my only true love ? 
Where were you, where had you taken refuge ? For a day 
or two I shut myself up, in gloomy meditation. Then my 
resolve was taken. I applied for my dismission, and as this 
could not be obtained so quickly, the ambassador, at my ur- 
gent request, at length gave me leave of absence to travel. 
By this time the news of our prince’s death had reached us ; 
perhaps the minister suspected how matters stood. I hast- 
ened to St. Petersburg. Here, indeed, I learnt from our 
ambassador, that you had gone to your father, but no one 


HELOISE. 


261 


knew any thing of his being still at Jekaterinodar. Some 
said he was in Caucasia — others that he was stationed in 
Daghestan, and was subduing the Tartar tribes — others 
still assured me that they had heard of his fighting against 
the Lesghians. My mind was soon made up; I went to 
Odessa to learn more definite news, and to proceed by water 
to the east shore of the Black Sea — for I was determined to 
seek you out, wherever you might be. 

“ At Sympheropolis I learnt from the governor-general, to 
whom I had an introduction, and who received me with the 
greatest kindness, that your father was still in his camp at 
Jekaterinodar. Fortune was suddenly beginning to favor 
me again, for Woronzoff was just making preparations for a 
coasting-voyage, on which many noble ladies and gentlemen 
were to accompany him, as on a pleasure-trip — for even here, 
so near the scene of action, false reports had led to the belief 
that the Caucasus was conquered. The governor invited me 
to join his party, and I gratefully availed myself of this 
opportunity of approaching you. I intended to land at 
Anapa, from whence I hoped easily to reach Jekaterinodar. 
But when we approached the shore, and saw the heights 
covered with armed Circassians, we were quickly convinced 
that we were touching upon the enemy’s ground. This in- 
duced the governor to land at Anapa in company of a few 
officers only. I, meanwhile, had his promise to put me 
ashore at Ghelendshik, the second landing, and as several 
ladies, who — as they assured me — had, during the whole voy- 
age, recognized in me the unhappy lover, took me under 
their special protection, and interceded earnestly for me with 
the governor, he promised to give me a letter to the command- 
ant, so that he might furnish me with a detachment, to escort 
me over the mountains to my uncle. 

u He was true to his word. On his departure from Ghe- 
lendshik, I remained there, full of impatience to start. But 


262 


HELOISE. 


on the day on which God restored you to me, quite early, a 
Cossack came galloping up. By great exertion, and on va- 
rious by-ways, he had escaped the shots of the Circassians. 
He came as a messenger from the Ataman , to transmit the 
order of your father, the general, to send an additional escort 
of a battalion of riflemen to meet his daughter, who was on 
the way to Ghelendshik. 

u His daughter on the way to Grhelendshik ! Imagine 
what a thrill these words sent through me. The good God 
was leading you yourself to meet me ! I could hardly realize 
the happiness that awaited me. W e were instantly in readi- 
ness to march. But we had hardly been a few hours on the 
way, before we were met by breathless fugitives : 1 The gene- 
ral’s daughter has been attacked by Circassians — the Ataman 
has fallen — the bandits are the victors, and will carry her 
off !’ A glowing zeal to rescue such a prize from the hated 
enemy, urged all onward with the speed of lightning. I was 
driven by despair. We reach the scene of combat; I see 
the atrocious robber dragging you away ; I follow — but how 
can my ball strike him without injuring you? God Almighty 
guides my hand — the horse breaks down under him, as I had 
intended, and — you are mine once more !” 

Who was more grateful to God than Heloise ! What 
would have become of her, if she had been carried off into the 
mountains, where Russian foot never penetrated ? Even if 
Arslan’s passion had at length been broken by her resistance, 
would she not there have been for ever lost to her friends ? 
And yet — she could not help it : tear after tear would start to 
her eye when she thought of Arslan — of his betrayed affec- 
tion — of his horrible death ! 

She longed to hear from Isabella, from Angern ; but the 
journey to the capital would have taken them too much out 
of the way to their home. She resolved, therefore, to write 
again, and to be satisfied, for the present, with an answer to 


HELOISE. 


263 


her letter. But when, one day, the young couple, while the 
horses were being changed, were stopping before a post sta- 
tion, Heloise thought she distinctly recognized, in the lovely 
children’s heads which were peeping, one over the other, out 
of the window of a newly-arrived travelling-carriage, Isabella’s 
little girls. “ If they were not in deep mourning,” she thought 
— “ Can the old lady — ?” At this moment a lady in black, a 
delicate figure, stepped from the house to the open carriage- 
door, and Heloise heard plainly Isabella’s voice, saying : 

“ It is a pleasant house ; come, darlings, we will stay here 
to dinner.” 

Felix sprang from the carriage and lifted out Heloise. 
Trembling with joy, she hastened towards the lady in mourn- 
ing, who was already surrounded by little fairy figures. It 
was Isabella. 

After the first fervent greeting, Heloise, with an inquiring 
glance at the dress of Isabella and the children, said : “ But 
how, my dear friend, must I meet you?” 

Isabella’s countenance grew serious, and a faint color rose 
to her cheeks as she answered: “I have been a widow for 
three months.” 

“ So the baron is dead? And these children are fatherless?” 

u They are, Heloise. The baron died a sudden and fri- 
volous death — frivolous as his life. He died in a duel at the 
gaming table. In his last moments the feeling of his mistaken, 
empty, wasted life, came over him with fearful force, and at 
the door of death, he already heard the voice of the judge, 
who was calling the unprofitable servant to his last account. 
Oh, Heloise, his death was fearful !” 

“ Poor Isabella !” 

“ You have indeed a right to call me so, for it has lacera- 
ted my heart to see him depart thus, whom I once, with a 
pure, childish heart, chose for the companion of my life. It 
seemed as if the extinguished spark had suddenly been blown 


264 


HELOISE. 


into life again. I hoped a journey would do me and the chil- 
dren good, before Winter, the gaoler, confines us in his prison. 
And then — it was not only for that, that I undertook this 
journey. I will make you a confession. I wished to with- 
draw from the renewed attentions of my friend, the friend 
whom you rejected, foolish child !” 

“To withdraw from them, Isabella? Has not Nature 
created you , you yourself, for Angern ?” 

“ So it is, my Heloise ; but the lips which have touched 
the icy ones of a beloved dead friend, must be warmed again 
by life before they may receive the kiss of love. Leave me 
to myself ! Time will make all even.” 

Heloise felt that she was right. But it was a sweet hope 
to her, once to see Angern and Isabella united. 

She herself went with Felix to Waldeck. Felix followed 
his uncle’s advice. He retired from service, and, with the zea- 
lous, loving assistance of Heloise, the happiness of the subjects 
whose guidance God had intrusted to him, became the aim 
of his life. The public papers now and then brought news of 
Heloise’s father, and often in a manner, the just severity of 
which pained her deeply. From time to time, too, a few affec- 
tionate lines from his hand would find their way to the happy 
couple. He promised soon to fulfil his daughter’s fervent wish, 
and satisfy the increasing longing of his own heart for his fa- 
therland. But untiringly the wheel turned round, which drew 
him into the whirlpool of worldly life, of ambitious, never-sa- 
tisfied striving — and when last we heard of Heloise, she was 
still longing, in vain, to show her father his three lovely 
grandchildren. 


THE END. 


623 











to = X° 

r 1 > * 

* rD C* /- 

5 A 0 *11' 

** * 0 ' l b 
„*-*■•- *■ 


•S', * 1 



N 0o x. 


c. 

**> V 



< *<^r, ^ :\ 

* ** ^ '] 



$ 0 


\ \ 1 

~cT> .vv 
<p »\' 


* * r 7 . : 1 

«$# - / ^ W 

± y o * V * < \| 


f"0 


* X t 0 W c * 


V I 8 


A 


^ : 


X 0o x. 



x o 0 N 


^ ++ : 

c#* ^ 




^C* ^ ^ C ^ E > y * 0 N 0 0 K.^ 

^ A V y . S * * r . "> N 

7 C' v _ .V 

<v y<0 , £/F^l/^7 »bt^ r m T\ <\ 

r ‘ 'n % <s* <£* 

° ^xP <& ° ^ ^ 


y> X. 



1 A 


^ *> vx ~ -w - 

C^ ✓ > v -?^ % - 

^ *i • * S S A 0 V I8, V* ' 
* r° v* * i 

<x \ ** ^ 1 ' - - 

, O 0 N 

'* .^- V ' » 



. ^ v -V -. 

v\<\ ' %,'*<;. 

a\ . 0 N C .A, ^ 

AX C % °'3 O' < 
✓ 


0 * \ 




'a V 


\°o,. 


\ 


V 


* o 


// 




* /nO c> ^ 

9H o’ f ^ ^ 

. a» r i^ a , ^r, 

«» - ^ j^\. A. « ^cp 



i/ V 

o o 


! A 



\ ‘ A 



-A 

* / 

/ 

Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: 

JAN 


- c ” **m>* 




1997 



2: 

CL 

0 .v <U- 


. <s ■» a 


PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGIES. INC. 
1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Twp., PA 16066 
(412) 779-2111 






, ^ 5 N 0 ° ' 

i % / .* 

° ^ o 

x, * * ft v v- 

► y o * x * \‘\ O */ s s x Xy <* % n ^ ^ <\ 

^ ,# c° Nc «^b ** r 0^ x * v ’ 8 *CL ^ C° N 

-V, »V * c-sA^Xv V. ' „ ° 0 ,V 

%*, A' *>• <^xA\n'5ik ^ . 

* oer 


<£ 

CL /- \ ' O >’ r^ ✓ n 

„' * 8 I A * vV <*> * 0 

Y * °/“ \> s s >*. > 

* <■£> V 

r* <<> 

° ^ ^ 




a y 


o° 


* 

* A ' *• 

- *+■ >? 

^ ,n„~ ' £ *+ * ™v „ ° *° °A ' 

c- Jy %. o ' o * t 

a -L. * « I 1 " .. ^ *3nO' ! ^. 0 ' 'O * 

"V- ^ v> > _,o^ *’'*»*'%• 


> 0o .< 






<* Cj> 

✓ 

^ V ^ 

* oor * 

* i J i # 

"* >V* W "c*\ ^ 

',>> * 3 - • ' * ./v * *■ '* v*> ”/ v '• 

■Pu t$> or j 4\ /h. r L Vv. .vV * <■ <A 







c ^ 





o > 




& 


V 




library of congress 







